She and I
by logica
Summary: It's all about a play. GS
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

It could get annoying when so many people would be swarming on the streets of Vegas. Which happened to be every night.

Grissom waited patiently in front of the opened doors of the theater. The crowd was large and he didn't feel animalistic enough to shove himself in that mass and be pushed forward. He glanced up at the giant poster just above the doors. "She and I," - That was the name of the play. His neck twisted slightly as if a fly had landed on it, irritating the skin with its tiny legs. His eyes took a glimpse of the watch on his wrist. There was still time.

It didn't pass long before the large river of people began flowing through those open doors and into the large theater. Taking out the ticket from his pocket, Grissom looked at it. Going alone in a theater filled with people was not something he preferred, and had it not been for the kind request he'd gotten, Grissom would've probably never even considered coming here.

He stepped inside when he heard some quiet footsteps of a person rushing toward the gates. He ignored it and puffed at the thought that people couldn't consider to be punctual enough for the theater at least. The footsteps got louder and louder until the person almost sped past him crushing into this older man. "Oh. Excuse me!" a young man with ridiculously combed hair apologized. He didn't wait for Grissom to respond but continued with fast steps down the hall. "It's fine," Grissom murmured and shook his head.

When he finally got to his seat, he was surprised to find himself in the second row. He would have preferred to be seated somewhere in the back, but this would have to do. Sitting down, the numerous whispers, giggles and an occasional yell to a familiar person floated in the air like a flock of insects, not ready to be settled down until ordered silently to do so. He sighed. Grissom hoped the show would begin soon.

"Hey, Griss," a soft voice, isolated almost immediately and easily from the rest of the noise pollution diverted his gaze away from the still empty stage.

"Sara. Didn't know you were coming." Grissom stood up, making room for the young woman to pass through.

She smiled and pulled out her ticket. "I got an invitation as well."

Grissom's left lip stretched slightly to this. He waited for her to pass by but she remained in her spot. "Are you going to pass through?"

"You're in my seat," she said politely.

"I am?"

"Didn't check your ticket I see," she teased.

Taking a discreet look of the packed hall, Grissom shrugged. These two seats were the only unoccupied ones in the theater; he assumed one wrong number wouldn't make a huge difference. "I didn't realize I was having company," he said and slowly moved through the narrow space between the two rows of seats.

"I wasn't informed about that either," she said and sat down next to him.

"Any idea what the play is about?"

"Nope. But if the large number of people is any indication… it must be something quite remarkable."

"Well, let's see, shall we?"

Sara only showed her tamed grin at him before the lights were lowered, signaling the beginning of the show.

The story was nothing fascinating; a simplistic telling about a man and his career, home, love, and life. Fifteen scenes later, Adam - the main character in story - sat silently on the bed; on his left a few feet away stood a tall mirror and on his right a nightstand with a glowing lamp. Nothing else was present on the stage, allowing the audience to picture the gray emptiness of the room that mirrored the insides of the saddened man. And the man seemed old; sad and old.

A young woman with a pink ponytail emerged from the shadows behind the bed. She leaned forward. "It sucks, doesn't it?"

Being startled by the voice, Adam jumped from the bed and quickly turned around. "W-what?"

"Sitting like that, thinking, thinking. So many thoughts in your head that you think they'll suffocate you in the end?"

"Who are you?" he asked. He was frightened by this stranger.

"Oh, come on. You don't recognize me? My voice at least?"

Adam shook his head. "N-no."

"If I had your feelings right now, I would be so hurt by that. Hello! It's me, Amanda! That voice in your head! Remember?"

"H-how?"

"You're thinking so much, beating yourself up, you poor thing, I just had to come and help you out a bit."

"About what?"

"Well… you and Julianne for one thing."

"Damn," Sara said quietly and got up.

"Where are you going?" Grissom asked.

"Ladies room," she said and quietly walked away.

"I'm just going to ask you something." Amanda paused. "When are you going to wake up already?" she yelled and snapped her fingers four time before his face.

"W-what?"

"Oh, what, what, what. Knock off that ridiculously innocent act. I'm in your mind, ok? You think you can lie to me?"

Adam went quiet. "No…"

"Good. You keep thinking about her, aren't you," she guessed.

Adam sighed. "Yes."

"And you're miserable?"

"Isn't that obvious by now?"

"HA! If you only knew, Adam. But if you think this hurts… just wait until it's too late."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm talking about ceasing the moment and not hiding away and just waiting for something as important as her to pass like that. You're handling this whole thing like a bloody coward I have to say."

"Please don't criticize me."

"No? Why not? You sure don't seem to listen when others try to say it you _nicely_! If I don't, who else is going to wake you up? You sure are terrible at it."

"I'm just being careful."

"Oh, about what? Is it that she's younger than you?" Amanda laughed. "I hardly think that ten years is a major difference, Adam."

"It's not so easy."

"OH, right… she's under you. You're the boss... what will everyone think of you if you got involved with her, right? How horrible. Especially as almost everyone thinks you're incapable of showing real emotions?"

Adam looked up at her. "It's my career we're talking about."

"And a position you're not exactly crazy about," Amanda said those words quickly. "I know, Adam, I really know."

"It's not that."

"Really? Ah… I see. We're coming back to you being a bloody coward again. You've grown so used to not actually feeling love that you think once you do that it's going to break you like a twig?"

"I've seen what it has done to people."

"And you think the same will happen to you."

Adam nodded.

"How do you know?"

"I'm just guessing."

"Ok… so, somehow, let's say it does. She leaves you, you're heartbroken. It hurts so much. But… try comparing that with never having loved a woman at all? Then tell me which is worse."

"I don't know…"

Amanda growled. "Go to the mirror." Adam didn't move. "Don't make me push you over there. Go on!"

Adam obeyed and slowly walked over to it. Amanda stood behind him, her chin on his shoulder. "Have a good look at yourself, Adam. In your fifties… old. An old geezer." Adam shuddered. "Sounds ugly, doesn't it."

"Yes, it does."

"You have to admit, you're not the most handsome man in the world. You might have been when you were younger, but that's in the past. And then there's your… openness. Ok, maybe not. Let's call it continuous enigma. Women will find it attractive… they'll try to break it. But you won't let them. You've always been a tough shell to break, Adam."

"It did me good so far."

"Hm, yeah, sure… means more for Julianne though. Not everyone has the patience to break it… as I'm sure you know. So, why do you think she might want you? Your position?"

"No, I know that at least."

"Good, good. You might think that it's maybe that intelligence about you? Some that find it odd, silly, because they can't understand it? What your hobbies are, what draws your curiosity? And that maybe she can give a shit enough about you to still stick around? To have some hope that you might open up for her?"

"I don't know. I don't know what she sees in me. She's beautiful, intelligent…"

"The only one that has managed to match and mirror yours?" Amanda whispered into his ear.

Adam didn't respond.

"Something she didn't have to try. And it scared you? That maybe someone like her can really learn to know you? Ah, poor Adam."

"She'd be better off with someone else."

"You think so? Would you let her go?"

"I've never had her."

"That's not true. She would've been long gone if that was the case."

"You think," Adam turned around. "She's put up with me just because of some a chance she thinks we might have?"

Amanda nodded.

"That's ridiculous."

"Huh, no wonder you're alone. You really don't understand women. Even those who are… like you?"

"She's not like me."

"Oh, no? Go back, think of the last time you've been so intellectually stimulated by anyone? What, nothing? Sad…"

Adam walked away from the mirror and past the bed. "I can't do this to her. I can't get involved with Julianne."

"You might hurt her if you don't. Okay, you already have but…"

"I'll hurt her more if I do."

Amanda sighed annoyingly. "Do you really want to spend the rest of your life alone?" She rushed towards him. "Huh? Do you? Wake up somewhere, old and alone? With no one else but your… stuff? You really want that?"

"No," he confessed.

"Then give her a chance, Adam… give _yourself_ a chance."

"It's too complicated even for you to understand."

"Oh, there we go again…" Amanda collapsed her arms. "You don't trust her?" She shook her head. "When she went out with Gary you took that as some form of betrayal?"

Adam stood silent.

She snorted. "Wonderful, Adam. Leave it to a girl to unknowingly betray someone. You're a real ass at times, I hope you know that." Amanda stepped up close to Adam, her nose almost touching his. "You'll regret this holding back, Adam," she spoke quietly to him.

"Hey," Sara whispered, barely managing to distance Grissom's attention from the play.

"Hey," he whispered absently back at her.

Seeing how absorbed he appeared by the story, Sara decided not to say a word further and only sat down quietly next to him.

"She'll be gone, you'll be alone… and regretting the things you've never done is much worse than regretting those which you have. She loves you, you know that. For your own good stop this nonsense and go to her. You both deserve that."

Adam closed his eyes with a sad sigh to this. When he opened them once again, Amanda wasn't there anymore. Tired, he sat down on the bed.

Sara leaned closer to him. "What happened?"

Grissom leaned in closer to her ear. "I think Adam has just been enlightened by Amanda about Julianne," he whispered to Sara without taking his eyes away from the stage.

"Oh." Sara leaned back in her seat. "Damn bladder," she whispered and received a brief but amused look from Grissom.


	2. chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

The final scene had a black setting. Adam stood in an empty room with only an open coffin before him; inside, the peaceful face of his beloved Julianne.

Amanda appeared behind him. Slowly, she walked up next to him and then stood there, watching the soulless face of the deceased girl. "You were too late," she told him quietly.

"Shut up," Adam mumbled.

"You waited too long." Her voice was cold, losing its sympathy in moments when Adam needed it the most.

"Please. Shut up! Not now!" he sounded irritated.

Amanda looked at him. "Go on," she said. "You have the chance to finally tell her." She placed her hand on his shoulder. "She will listen." She looked back at the coffin. "She has no other choice."

Adam swallowed. He took a deep breath and approached the coffin. "Julianne." A heavy sigh left him. "Jul. Forgive me. I-I was just scared. I-I… thought you would never leave me. Even if… Even when you tried, I never let you. Pretty selfish of me, isn't it?"

Grissom leaned his chin on his fingers. It was an unnatural sensation that the character's every word resulted in a warm but disturbing after-effect of each beat of his heart. Sara was quiet. She must've been absorbed in the story as much as he.

"I couldn't be without you, Jul. I-I still can't. I pushed you away until your distance was so unbearable that… I would force you back in my circle and yet, manage to keep you out. Forgive me, Jul. Forgive me for making you feel so miserable." Adam put his hand on the wooden surface of the coffin. "I was afraid. Can you believe that? You scared me. I was afraid from you and for you. No one had done that to me. Can you imagine the feeling? You're so safe within you and… someone comes along and shakes that security. You did that to me. I don't how it happened. Maybe because you were…" his trembling hand touched his chest, "…me in so many ways… only… a more open, softer soul; a beautiful… such a beautiful spirit." Adam swallowed. He appeared very willing to let out his thoughts.

Moving the hand with fingers that never stood still, he brushed his fingers against the cheek of the young woman. "I was safe from everyone else _but_ you." He shook his head. "I had to defend myself somehow, right? I-I… had to, otherwise… I think that with all those … quiet years behind me, I wasn't capable of living in a way, that I think, you might have wanted me to with you.

I found out too late that that didn't matter to you. I don't know. I was an idiot. And now, look at the ending here. You're listening to me… listening to every word that comes out of my mouth; in silence, in a place where you can't respond.

I don't believe in ghosts, all that supernatural crap. But maybe, I wonder, if you could read my thoughts right now. I…" he sighed. "Did you know? Did you ever know that… I love you? Jul." Tears began to fall. Adam started crying. "I love you, Jul. I did for so long.

This is how someone chose to punish me. Jul, darling, I'm sorry. A part of me really died with you that night because… well, you were it. You were me. You knew me. No one else did. But you knew me." Adam covered his face with his hands.

Amanda watched in the background. "She is still listening, Adam."

Adam removed his hands and watched the peaceful face of his love. He leaned low and kissed Julianne's forehead. "I love you, Jul. I love you," he whispered on her skin and lifted his head. Stepping back, he wiped his tears away from his face.

"It's over," Amanda said.

"No," Adam's voice became more concrete. "It never will be," he said and walked away.

The curtain lowered.

"That was… interesting," Sara whispered and remained in her seat longer along with Grissom while the other guests, after the long applause, started standing up and others leaving their seats already.

"Yes, it was." Grissom slowly stood up. "We should go fulfill the rest of our promise," he told Sara.

They were greeted by short man with glasses at the very entrance of the dressing rooms. A smile appeared on the man's face when he noticed the two visitors. "Gil! Sara!" He grabbed Grissom's hand and then Sara's. "You did come. Thank you."

"It was a pleasure being here," Grissom said.

"Did you enjoy the play?" Robin asked them.

"Very much," Sara sounded a little embarrassed.

"And you, Gil?"

"Exceptional," Grissom replied.

Robin smiled. "Thank you."

"If I may ask you, Robin… Where did you get the inspiration for the play?" Grissom felt curious. He also received a glance from Sara.

"Oh." Robin shrugged. "I'm sure you've already gotten the message of the story, right?"

Sara kept quiet. Although she had seen the majority of the play, because of the scene that she missed, Sara felt a little left out when it came to the point of the story.

Grissom wanted and even expected Sara to give a response. He felt slightly uncomfortable when she did nothing. "Yes, we did," he told Robin.

"Good. It's all about having to cease a moment, an opportunity. I've met people that had missed such wonderful opportunities. It's sad. No one died, thank God, but some of them were about that ideal love, like Adam and Julianne."

"Really," Sara spoke with a soft smile and a furrowed eyebrow.

"Yes. It's all about that fear, uncertainty. Not wanting to get out of that safe shell of oneself. And that's what happened with Adam…"

"He felt afraid by Julianne," Sara finished Robin's sentence. "Too scared to take a risk with her and by the time he finally came around."

"She was killed, yes," Robin said and crossed his arms.

"As Napoleon once said_: The torment of precautions often exceeds the dangers to be avoided_," Grissom said, saving himself from an awkward moment that he was sure would have followed with the woman next to him.

"It's quite true," Robin agreed.

"It's interesting to see how many people respond to it. From the popularity the play has gathered…" Sara said.

"Yes."

"Thank you for inviting us," she told Robin.

"No need. I really don't know how to thank either of you. Had it not been for your efforts… my wife and I wouldn't have been celebrating Cassie's graduation." Robin's daughter - Cassie would have become another victim of a serial killer if Grissom and Sara hadn't figured the evidence in time to capture the killer and rescue the girl.

"Oh, congratulations! When was the graduation?" Sara asked.

"A week ago. Cassie asked me to tell you again how grateful she is."

"We were just following the evidence," Grissom assured him.

"You did much more, Gil. Both you and Sara saved my Cassie."

"We're glad she's doing well," Sara said.

A shout came behind the door, calling Robin for some matters concerning the play. "Oh, I better get going. You are always welcome to see the play again if you like. Thank you for coming! Have a good evening," Robin said quickly and rushed to the hallway of the dressing rooms.

"Nice man," Sara said.

"Yes," Grissom agreed and glanced at Sara. "Shall we?" he gestured towards the exit.

"Okay."

* * *

"Where are you parked?" Grissom asked once they stepped outside.

"Next to you," Sara responded, almost ducking her head inside her shirt. She felt Grissom's confused look. "I couldn't find any other available place," she said.

"Oh." An inward smile could not be held back. "Pleasant," he told himself.

Sara shoved her hands in the pockets of her thick coat. "So, you liked the play, huh?" as cheesy as her attempt to start a conversation might have sounded, it felt better than the silence. Silence between them had felt very uncomfortable as of late.

"Mm. And from what you told Robin, I gather you did too," Grissom said and glanced at her.

"Erm, yeah, although," she twisted her lips, before biting them for a moment, "I don't think I got the complete picture of the story."

Grissom kept quiet to that sentence. He did not feel brave enough to contradict her opinion.

"And I feel… itchy when I don't have a complete answer to something I wish to know."

"Itchy?" Grissom looked at her with his right eyebrow up.

"Yeah. It's as if something's scratching inside you, urging you to know more."

"Ah." Grissom smiled tamely. "I do get that."

"Which is probably why I'm going to go see the play again."

"Why?" He faked a confused expression to cover his apparent disapproval of her thought.

"I just want to know what Amanda told Adam…" she paused. "What _did_ she tell him anyway?" she asked him curiously.

"She just helped him figure out his situation with Julianne." Grissom shrugged.

"What, did she tell him to go after her… not do anything? What?"

Grissom sighed. "I don't remember."

Sara eyed him suspiciously. "Okay. I'll go see it again then."

"You didn't miss anything important, Sara, trust me."

"Didn't miss? Griss, the following scenes – apart from the final one - didn't make much sense. Adam's behavior was so mixed up that, one time I thought he decided to kill Julianne."

Grissom smirked. "It wasn't that."

"Then?"

"It was not an important scene."

"I thought you couldn't remember it."

"It's why I can't remember it; because it wasn't important."

"I still can't shake away that itchy feeling."

"Well then, scratch it!"

"If I knew what that scene was about, it would stop."

"The story made sense regardless of it."

"Grissom, It's like when you're almost done with a puzzle, but two pieces are missing. Now, someone keeps telling you it's fine, it's fine those two pieces wouldn't make a big difference, but you _know_ that they do."

Grissom stopped and turned to her. "It's a play, Sara, let it go!" he sounded much calmer than what he was feeling. The feeling was irritation.

"It had an interesting story."

"You said it didn't make sense."

"I said some of the scenes didn't make sense. But the rest did. And you were pretty absorbed by it."

"So?"

"So, if you were so interested in it, and the attentiveness did grow after that scene, it must've been pretty good. I am simply curious."

"The play is that puzzle." He glanced at her.

"Yes."

Grissom shrugged and then stopped. "Here we are." He pulled out his keys. "See you at work, Sara."

Sara watched him with astonishment. "So you're not going to tell me?"

With his back turned to her, Grissom closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "Okay, fine," he said and turned around to face her. "Amanda advised him to go after her. There." He spread his arms, hoping that was a sufficient answer for Sara.

"And what did Adam say?"

"He didn't say anything."

Sara relaxed her shoulder. "Okay… Thanks. I'll, uh, I'll see you tomorrow," she said and walked over to her car.

"Night, Sara."

"Night." Sara opened the door and went inside.

Letting her drive away first, Grissom watched the weak dust trail which followed the car. He then turned the key and started the engine.

Adam was not the only one who had been enlightened by that little voice in his head.


	3. chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

"Man!" Sara exclaimed and swung her arms back only to hear a male groan afterwards.

Nick stood behind her with a very painful expression, while his hand was covering the area which was the target of Sara's accidental swing. "Oh, ah, Nick, I'm _so_ sorry!" Sara approached her colleague, but Nick only backed away from her. "You okay?" she asked him.

"Never been better," his changed whistle-like voice emerged behind the covering wrist of his arm. "Ah, shit." He quickly exited the room.

Sara watched him leave along with Grissom who had managed to miss Sara's blow by a single hair. He then turned around to look at her. "What got you so excited?" Grissom asked.

"Um" She kept looking at the opened doorway a while longer before finally meeting her supervisor's gaze. "Yeah, I-uh, nothing," Sara said.

"I think I saw blood," Grissom said subtly and leaned slightly forward.

Sara let out a heavy sigh. "You were quiet. I didn't see him!"

"Then it wasn't nothing."

Sara tilted her head. "If you must know... my brother got engaged," she sounded strangely uncomfortable by this.

Grissom noticed this and narrowed his eyes with a mischievous smile. "When?"

"Two days ago."

"Congratulations to him."

"Yeah."

"Is that a tone of distress?"

"No." Sara crossed her arms. "It's just that I never pictured him with a ball and chain in his life. Or maybe not until he was ninety."

"And that worries you?"

"I don't know. He always had a strange view on marriage; the type that equaled such legal union between two people, with erm... cigarettes. Addictive and bad for your health." After receiving a strange look from Grissom, she continued. "Yeah, I know, strange comparison?" She shrugged. Grissom smiled for a moment. "What do we have?" she then asked him.

Grissom said nothing and only handed her a piece of paper. "Oh, goody. Double homicide."

"Nick's on it as well. But I think he'll probably be a little late."

Sara looked down on the floor and silently walked out. Grissom fought hard to conceal a smirk.

* * *

When they arrived at the scene surrounded by forest trees, two bodies greeted them. A man and a woman lying face down with a bullet each in their heads. The flies had already begun checking out the potential nesting places on the corpses.

"Blowfly to a corpse – like a bee to a flower," Sara said.

"One of nature's perfect little soldiers." Grissom observed the scene carefully while Sara took notes of her initial impressions. "Identical wedding bands," he said, noticing the rings on their fingers.

"Married," Sara added.

"Maybe you should bring your brother here to see this," Grissom joked.

Sara glanced at him and then back at her notepad. The thought was amusing.

"Hey guys," Nick finally arrived with a white Band-Aid across his nose.

Sara cringed. "Nick, man, I'm really sorry."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Nick replied and stopped next to Sara. He started watching the scene. "Heard your brother's got engaged."

Sara glanced at Grissom. "Yeah, he did."

"When's the big day?"

"They haven't set a date yet."

"Okay."

"How's your nose?"

"It'll heal," he said. "You've got quite a punch, Sara." Nick smiled.

Sara felt a slight blush. "Thanks, Nick. And I am…"

"You apologize one more time, and you're going to be a third DB here," he told her.

"Okay, okay," Sara lifted her hands and chuckled.

* * *

"A jealous girlfriend. Adultery just keeps getting better," Sara mumbled as she and Grissom were going over the final reports. The case turned out to be a short one. "The husband's mistress was not content with his rejection to leave his wife."

"And this is how she showed it."

"Yeah, nothing says 'I love you' like a bullet in the head." She placed the few remaining pieces of paper in the folder and handed to Grissom. "That's all for today?" she asked him.

"Yes."

"Great." She sighed.

Noticing her near departure, Grissom looked up at Sara. "Leaving?" he asked.

"Yeah."

He felt disappointed by her answer. Although the case had finally been closed, Grissom wished she would not have to depart just yet. But he did not say anything, allowing her to leave.

When her presence disappeared from the room, Grissom allowed himself to finally sit down. He pushed the folder gently away from him and then took off his glasses. A string of curiosity found itself in his system. Grissom wanted to know what she might be doing in her off hours lately. Perhaps her previous habits have changed. Perhaps she had stopped listening to the police scanner and taken up an art class instead.

He smiled. The thought appeared unlikely but strangely appealing. Putting his glasses on again, he quietly returned to work.


	4. chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

Sara's hands found their place on the rough tree trunk on which she was sitting; the wind decided to pick up speed and remove the strands from the woman's face. She was enjoying the silence of the moment when something decided to temporarily halt that.

Her head turned and she saw him quietly walking up to her. She did not know what kind of face to make. How did he manage to find her?

"Hey," she greeted him softly but held back on the smiles.

"Evening." He looked past her and then at her. "Am I interrupting you?"

She did not give an immediate answer. In a way he had cut into the moments of solitude but she did not feel the mood to reject him. "I was beginning to crave company from another human being," she responded and finally let a thin line stretch across her face.

"Can I take that as an invitation?" he asked in his own seemingly shy, but obscured intelligent expression.

"If you want," she told him and turned her head.

Grissom gave her a cautious but friendly look before he slowly walked over to her and sat down next to Sara. He looked ahead with her at the lonely mound in a near distance.

"How did you find it?" he asked.

"I read."

He nodded slowly and perched his lips. Grissom wished to smile. He was not prepared to find Sara here and – from what he could tell – enjoying the view. His eyes traveled over to hers. Her gaze was almost mystic in the way she observed the idyllic and undisturbed routine of the colony. Grissom would have been fiendishly lying to himself if he didn't think she looked beautiful this way. Sara was a rare beauty, she always had been, but something about this moment managed to distance himself from everything else except her face and that stare. He glanced at her lips. They seemed hesitant whether to part or not. Maybe she wished to speak or perhaps to gasp.

She was mystifying.

"I should ask the obvious now," she broke the isolation period.

"And that would be?"

"How did you find me?" Sara turned to him. Her brown eyes were crossing over to a golden color and back in only a second; a play of colors. Oh, how the sun knew which tricks to play with such exquisiteness.

"I saw your car," he replied and pointed behind him.

Sara's eyes narrowed for a split second and she glanced at the showed direction. "Oh. Yeah, I guess that was apparent." She smiled briefly and returned her gaze to its original target.

"So, what brought you here?" he asked.

"The peacefulness. Just simple, undisturbed quietness."

"With fire ants as your company," he said with curled lips.

"Yes." She smiled.

"An interesting choice."

Sara didn't respond. She gathered her hands close to her stomach instead.

"Something on your mind?" he asked her.

"Why would you ask?"

"Solitude is sometimes the best way to let your thoughts run more smoothly."

"It is." She knew he waited for her to continue. "Why do you want to know?"

"As your supervisor I should know if one of my CSIs is struggling with something."

That had been a block of ice shoved right between them. Sara turned to look at him and it was not a very agreeable gaze at that. How could he say that? Where was he when other sad things were dragging her down in life? She turned away. He always prevented her from feeling confident enough to actually confide in him. "You happen to have a degree in psycho-analysis also?"

"I would love to say that having read Sigmund Freud has made me an expert but sadly... not."

"That explains it then."

He recognized her sarcasm. "Any reasons I should know about?"

"Where should I start?" Sara told herself. "About why I don't want to tell you?" she said out loud.

"Yes." He paused. "And if we're lucky to get pass that, what is troubling you as well."

"If you should be so lucky... Do expect a lot of bumps."

"I am prepared for the bruising and scars also." He smiled.

Sara smirked and shook her head.

Grissom was patient. He diverted his gaze to the busy ants and their never ending, life-long work. They were a pretty sight; even if deadly; a perfect addition here. There could always be something charming about the desert. This time it had been the almost perfect silence with nothing but the quiet whistling of the wind that passed by his ears.

"You are right," Sara finally spoke.

"About what?" He glanced at her.

"Insects being perfect."

Grissom's lips smiled briefly to this.

"_They always do their job_, you said. It's so true," she said not removing her gaze away from the ants. "They're simple without being ridiculously complicated. Useful without many expectations." She sighed.

Grissom recognized that form of exhale. Sara was usually saddened by something when that gentle and deep sigh would escape her. "They don't have to go through the same complicated things that humans do."

"Aha."

Her eyebrows furrowed; the wind took a break as if on purpose to allow Sara to speak. "They're never alone..." her voice was so fragile that if the wind hadn't made the decision to cease its movement, the tone would deteriorate in its invisible river and be swept farther away.

He had turned into a master of seeming emotionless. With anyone else he would have kept that composure. With Sara he was lucky if he didn't break down. He despised her ability to affect him in that way. Grissom despised himself even more, so vigorously, for not being able to stop himself from turning into clay at times for her hands to shape him in any way they chose. She never knew about that because he never showed her that ability. But he felt it. Every single time, every single moment when her vulnerability would appear on the surface, that flame had ignited inside him and started burning. It was eating away his defenses. He realized that he was inviting those flames to enter deeper inside him rather than fight them with all his strength.

The truth was a simple one even if he chose to ignore it more than once: he loved this woman.

Grissom understood her point. He wasn't brave enough to tell her that he could not change that for her; at least, not for now. "I take it your brother's engagement has something to do with this," he said instead.

"It might." Her fingers scratched her palm. "We all get that crisis sometimes with the fear of being alone. Not having someone there..."

"You think that's how it's going to be for you."

"Don't you?" she glanced at him. As a response Grissom tilted his head from side to side and raised his eyebrows. "To have a companion. To share your passions with."

"It's a luxury if anyone could be so fortunate as to find such a soulmate."

"Do you believe in it?"

"In?"

"Soulmates."

"I haven't come across any proof that there actually is such a thing."

Sara smirked and looked down at her hands. "Well, before you sounded like you did."

"Did I?"

"Yeah." Sara nodded.

Grissom's left lip curled up. "It was accidental."

"Not with a sentence like that it's not."

"You start looking into meanings like that, you risk of losing a rational approach."

"As much as my scientific side is telling me to agree with you... I can't. Sometimes, for certain matters, _that_ rational side deserves a break."

"Ah, but it's the lack of rationality and reason that most often than not gets us into unnecessary trouble."

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" She had to admit to herself that she found this slightly amusing.

Grissom chuckled and was ready to respond to that when suddenly his cell phone rang. "Grissom... okay. Thanks." He placed the phone back in his pocket. "Lab's calling."

"Okay."

If Grissom did not know any better, he swore Sara's response was a sad one. Would she miss him? "You'll stay here?"

"A little longer," she said.

Grissom stood up. "This is a nice place by the way."

"Thanks," she smiled widely at him.

"I might come here again."

Sara said nothing but kept her smile. She was satisfied to hear that. With any luck, she might not have to come here by herself anymore... with any luck...

* * *

After receiving the report from Greg of a possible relation between a victim and a suspect, Grissom headed out into the hallway. That had been a pleasant discussion he shared with Sara the previous week. Maybe if this could somehow continue, he might risk a step or two.

The smile on his face however, was rapidly removed when he noticed Sara and detective Vartann in the hallway. Her hands were in the back pockets of her jeans and her entire body language was so relaxed that Grissom felt a spark of jealousy.

And then she laughed. It wasn't fake laughter, but a genuine, amused laugh. The spark turned into a tiny fire. Grissom could hardly remember the last time he had caused her to reproduce such a joyful sound; perhaps because it had been too long ago. He took a deep breath and started walking towards them. "Hey, Sara?" he called her.

She turned to him and Grissom felt a tug in his chest. She looked happy. She was smiling. The grin on her face was something completely different than her state the previous week. The tiny fire morphed into a medium flame. "Yeah?"

"Got the results. We can secure a warrant for the house," he said. Grissom was lucky that he had their case to use as an excuse to interrupt this enjoyable conversation.

"Okay, I'll be right there, I just..." she turned to the detective when Grissom immediately interrupted her.

"We need to hurry," he said in a soft tone but one that meant business.

"Uh, okay." Sara understood. "And thanks, I'll think about it."

"Please do." Detective Vartann smiled back at her before bidding her and Grissom farewell.

When he left, Grissom's curiosity got the best of him. "What was that all about?" he tried to sound casual.

"Nothing interesting," she replied.

"You laughing certainly showed the opposite."

"He just told me a good joke."

"Is that all?"

Sara gave him an awkward look. "Yes, Grissom." She turned her head. "And he asked me out."

That last sentence was a pair on nails that rooted Grissom on the spot while Sara continued walking. Did he hear correctly? He struggled to release his feet so he could catch up with her. "What did you say?" he was also struggling to maintain the same tone of voice.

"Why?" she looked at him.

Grissom shrugged. "Trying to make a conversation."

Sara raised an eyebrow at him. That was an odd response. "You heard my answer."

"Oh. You're going to give it much thought?"

"Probably... I don't know." She sounded honest.

* * *

Grissom looked at his planner. _Dinner with Jack Clearcane at 7:30_ was scribbled in the rectangular space on the paper. He had written that yesterday when he received the call and the invitation.

"And so, I think the glove that we found at the son's apartment might convince the jury that..." Sara looked up at Grissom. His face showed no real presence here. "And then a piano fell on my head," she said.

"Good, good." Even Grissom's voice appeared absent.

Sara approached his desk. "Grissom?" she called him.

He finally looked up at her. From his stare Sara could tell he had not heard a single word from her. The attention in those blue eyes slowly returned as he kept looking at her. That painfully long change affected Sara. She wanted to say something but Grissom's deepening stare bolted her lips. She might have somehow noticed a curl forming at the corner of his mouth but Sara could not confirm it. Those eyes did not let her move.

"What are you doing tomorrow after work?" he finally asked her.

"I..." That was not an expected response. "I don't know."

"Come to dinner with me," he said.

"What?" she was not sure she heard well.

"I am meeting a friend of mine and his wife for dinner tomorrow. They're staying in Vegas for a few days."

"Okay..."

"He asked me if I could bring a... companion with me."

"Aha... so, why me?" she was hugely skeptical about this. His lack of proper emotional exposure did not help much either.

"I think having a female companion with me would be more appropriate."

"Why not ask Catherine?"

"I need someone with more knowledge about insects," he replied.

"Ah... let me guess... your friend or his wife is an entomologist?"

"They both are."

Sara smirked. "Of course."

"Well?" he waited.

"I'm not sure my level of expertise is high enough to indulge myself into conversations involving such subject with them."

Grissom chuckled slightly. "We won't talk about bugs all the time, Sara."

"It doesn't change my answer."

"What is your _real_ answer then?"

Sara sighed and simply stared at him.

"Shift's not over yet. We're not paid to stare at each other," he told her.

"I'll give you a definite answer tomorrow," she said.

"I need one now if it's possible."

"Your invitation came out of nowhere; I think I deserve a day more to consider it."

"It's not a date, Sara. Just dinner with some friends of mine."

Placing her hands on her waist, she never took her eyes off his. She finally exhaled and dropped her arms. "Sure, why not."

That curl at his lips finally showed. "Thank you," he said. He clicked his pen and set it between the documents, giving Sara an indication that their conversation had finished.

She gave him one more look before she turned around and casually walked out of his office. "I better catch up on my reading then," she mumbled.


	5. chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

Note: This chapter was supposed to be up much sooner but because of some problems it got delayed. Sorry about that. Thank you for your reviews :)

* * *

"You're late," Grissom greeted Sara at the entrance to the restaurant. He sounded surprised.

"Traffic," Sara replied, ending their exchange.

With her black jacket and pants, a green shirt and black shoes, Sara gave Grissom another confirmation of how simple her choice of clothes had been; simple but elegant. She had class without trying too much.

After they found the right table, Grissom and Sara both took their places. "Guess I'm not the only one being late," she said and looked around.

Sitting across from her, Grissom sensed the awkward string of tension around her. "You okay?" he asked.

She looked at him with a blank stare. "I don't look okay?"

"You look..." he paused, "You seem a little tense."

"Ah." Sara sighed. "Leftovers from work probably."

He had to smile to this answer. "You look as if we're meeting the Dalai Lama," he told her.

Sara felt an insignificant flame in her cheeks as she chuckled. "Sorry." She turned her shoulders a few times and then leaned back in her chair. The faint yellow glow, the quiet string music, the careful consideration of the guests not to raise their voices higher than the music; everything gathered together in a pleasant and, one might add, intimate atmosphere to the restaurant. "Charming place," Sara spoke softly as her eyes made a full circle before her.

"I agree."

The soft music began forming unfamiliar ballads, being respectful to anyone here who had wanted to have a normal conversation. On each wall were remarkable copies of famous renaissance paintings. Tiziano's Flora was placed on the wall behind Sara; A beautiful presentation of a young woman that managed to catch Grissom's attention.

The softness of the image and its position so close to Sara held his eyes longer on it. "Have you been to Florence?" he asked her without removing his gaze.

"No," she replied. "W-why?" Sara followed his gaze to the painting. "Oh. Wow, that's a pretty good replica."

"Extremely," he almost whispered. "_Flora_. They have the original in the Uffizi gallery in Florence," his voice returned to normal once Sara faced him again.

"And you're also an art lover."

"Is that unusual?" He looked at her.

"No." Sara smiled. "It's nice."

They were briefly interrupted by the waiter whom Grissom managed to get rid of politely and quickly.

"Why did you ask me if I've ever visited Florence?" Sara asked after the interruption.

"Flora inspired me," he replied and then smiled with a nod towards the painting.

"Aha. Have _you_ ever had that opportunity to travel to good old Italy?"

"Unfortunately, no. Maybe in the future when I retire."

"Sounds like a good idea," she replied.

"Yes." He looked down at his napkin. "Hopefully I won't be by myself," Grissom said.

After a brief silence, Sara continued. "That would be a shame," she said quietly.

"Maybe I'll get a dog," he said and smirked. Just as his eyes met hers, voices were heard behind him.

"Gil!" and two hands found themselves on the edges of his shoulders.

A taller man with a white bushy beard stood above him with a wide smile on his face; thin glasses and small blue eyes. Grissom stood up and greeted him. "Jack. It's been ages."

"Oh, longer than that, my friend, longer than that," Jack stepped aside to reveal a smaller woman with her chalk-colored hair in a bun.

"Gil," her velvet voice greeted him as she smiled. Her grin must have been one of the largest Sara had ever seen, somehow magnifying the woman's kind features.

"Hey, Cynthia. Seeing you in Vegas is like seeing a butterfly in water."

Cynthia giggled. "I know. I told myself, Jack would never talk me into coming to this place but..." she sighed and tapped her husbands shoulder before hitting it hard with her fist. "His way with words is unbelievable."

"That I can agree," Grissom chuckled.

"Who's this heavenly creature?" Jack beamed and approached Sara.

"Sara. Pleased to meet you," she pulled out her hand to greet the elderly gentleman.

"This is your companion, Gil?" Jack asked feeling a little surprised.

"I'm afraid so," Grissom joked.

"Well!" Instead of taking her hand, Jack embraced Sara so tightly that it almost left the poor woman breathless. It might have surprised her more than anyone as Jack Clearcane hardly seemed the kind of man who would have that physical strength. "Very good to meet you, Sara!" he said once he finally released her.

"Aha..." Sara was forced to attempt a retreat of air; a picture which left Cynthia with a few giggles.

"He's very friendly with Gil's friends," Cynthia said and gently took Sara's hand. "I'm Cynthia."

"That's uh..." Sara cleared her throat. "Good to know," and returned the handshake. Although Jack's form of greeting was very friendly, Sara was glad that his wife did not repeat it.

Grissom and Sara were ready to sit down when Cynthia interrupted them. "Gil, Sara, I'm sorry, could one of you change places so we can both sit next to each other. I really would like to have a good look at you both as we talk."

"Sure," they agreed.

When the arrangements were finally made, the real discussions soon followed. It began with the mating habits of the Alpine grasshopper, then three other discussions later to finish with the current status of the Dusky Large Blue butterfly.

Sara found herself participating in the discussions, much to her surprise, but she also knew to keep aside when some topics were on a much higher level than she was ready to talk about. Each participant set up a challenge with every question or answer, which at times was quite an adrenaline rush. She enjoyed discussing the many habits of the species and even listening attentively when she was taking a 'break' for herself.

Sometimes, however, some topics managed to really heat up the atmosphere, especially with the men to a ridiculous level. Sara even felt herself admiring the low tone that was handled by them instead of a shouting frenzy.

After five hours of debating, all four scientists took a moment to slip into an easy silence and allow their throats to receive the deserved rest.

"That was pretty intense at times," Sara finally spoke.

Jack chuckled. "I'm sorry. We weren't too much for you, were we?"

Sara let out a chuckle of her own. "No. It was great actually."

"We're glad to hear that, Sara. Usually people leave the room after only a few minutes into the discussion," Cynthia said.

"She's pretty resilient," Grissom said with a smile.

"She is," Jack agreed. "I'm glad you decided to come," he then told Sara.

"Feeling is mutual," Sara responded. "Do you always start your conversations like this? With the bugs first and yourselves after?"

"Most of the time," Cynthia replied. "Depends on how long it has been since our last meeting."

"I see." Sara glanced at Grissom.

"Are you studying entomology as well by any chance?" Jack asked her.

"No. I'm a crime scene investigator."

"Oh, so you two work together?" Cynthia asked.

"Yes," Grissom said.

"Is that how you met?"

"No, actually it was on a seminar. Grissom was giving a lecture there and I attended."

"How romantic," Cynthia grinned.

"Wait a minute. Sara? You're her? Wait, wait... Gil did mention you! He _said_ something about a charming girl who kept bugging him with questions," Jack said.

"You told him I was charming?" Sara asked Grissom in a playful and curious tone.

"I didn't put it in those exact words," Grissom excused himself.

"He mentioned you from time to time, but we didn't really know what to make out of you, because as we know Gil is a pretty enigmatic guy when it comes to his personal life," Cynthia said.

"Amen. And I've known you for twenty-two years, Gil," Jack added.

"But that's not to say that he doesn't have a giant heart," Cynthia told Sara. "I'm sure you know that by now, Sara."

Sara smiled as a response but said nothing.

"I don't see any rings here, so I'm guessing you're still dating?" Jack asked.

"Um, no we're not involved, we..." Sara started when she felt Grissom's hand over hers.

"Sara..." Grissom sighed and closed his eyes. He did not want her to continue. He must've anticipated his friends' reaction.

"You're not?" Cynthia stared at both of them. Her gaze saddened and she held it with Grissom's. "What a way of holding an old girl's hopes up," she said.

"I never mentioned anything like that, Cynthia," Grissom replied.

A familiar melody started playing in the background, cutting the emerging rigidity.

"Oh, great, song," Jack smiled and stood up. He stretched out his hand to Sara. "Would you do me the honor, pretty lady?"

Sara chuckled and took his hand. Jack was a very delightful man and she couldn't resist. "Sure."

"Excuse us, kids," Jack hummed and led Sara away to the dance floor.

"She's very pretty," Cynthia said as she and Grissom watched their other half get in sync with the melody.

Grissom took a sip of the wine, avoiding a proper response.

The woman turned to him. "Give yourself a break, Gil. You're nearly as old as Jack."

"Thank you, Cynthia, that's just what a man like myself wanted to hear."

"You're not seeing anyone?"

"No."

"No one in mind?"

"No," he lied.

"Why?"

"I haven't found anyone yet."

"You are such a liar!" Cynthia grinned. "I can't believe it, even after these fourteen years that _I_'ve known you; you still think you can lie?"

"I thought I was an enigmatic person."

"Oh, you are. But we can still tell when your nose starts growing... most of the times anyway. And this time, is pretty damn obvious." She leaned forward. "Sara? Is it _her_?"

"Why would you think that?"

"You've mentioned her often enough for me _and_ Jack to think so."

"Cynthia, please," he asked her nicely.

"You're right, you're right. I'm sorry." She exhaled and leaned her chin on her hands. "She seems kind." Grissom looked over at her with a gaze giving out a friendly warning. "What? Just as friends, Gil, nothing else."

He turned to watch her. "Didn't know she could dance like that," he said softly.

Cynthia smiled, watching her husband and Sara out there. "You sound surprised."

"Well," he sighed, "you learn something everyday."

"That's true."

"You know, I didn't think Jack would change so much after you two met."

"What do you mean?"

"It used to be all about work before for him. I used to think he would spend his dying days studying the remaining moth species in Australia." He curled his lips and then continued. "Now, its still work but... he seems more relaxed."

"Wow."

"What?"

"Who hit _you_ over the head with something?" Cynthia was surprised.

"Something I said?"

"You bet your boots you did! You're pretty reserved with such comments."

"Age is catching up with me." He shrugged. "But I meant what I said. He's changed. For the _better_."

This managed to calm her excitement down. "Yeah, I'm guessing it's all those hot passionate nights we share," Cynthia said and giggled after receiving a look from Grissom.

"Whatever you did to him, it's working." He wanted to keep their talk normal.

"I just gave him someone to care about," Cynthia said simply and took a bite of her desert.

Grissom glanced at her. That appeared to put a subtle end to their conversation. He had to admit that he was envious of this couple. They seemed to have everything that they needed between them. Secretly, Grissom wished he had something like that as well.

He then heard laughter. His gaze traveled over to the dance floor. She had such a peculiar laugh. He could imagine it being contagious if only she could laugh longer... And with him.

"No one wants to be alone in the end, Gil. And I think neither do you..." Cynthia's last sentence managed to get through.

Grissom held his breath. He chose not to answer. He did not want to reveal himself further.

* * *

Sara's hand held her bag with the piece of strawberry cake she had chosen to finish at home. The night turned out to be longer than she had planned, though she could not really complain as it was a good one.

"_I do not know what the spirit of a philosopher could more wish to be than a good dancer. For the dance is his ideal_," Grissom said.

"Excuse me?"

"You were pretty good out there," he said. "The dance."

"Oh, that. Thanks," she smiled.

"A hidden talent perhaps?" He teased.

"No. Just having a nice time," she replied.

Their cars greeted them a minute later at the parking lot. "You had a good evening?"

"Yeah. They're interesting people. I see why you're such good friends with them."

"They're fun to be around."

Sara chuckled. "So, thanks for inviting me," she said.

Grissom smiled tenderly. "I'm happy you could join us."

She assumed it would have been a big effort for him to convert the 'us' into a 'me', so she didn't correct it loudly. "Ah, it was either that or sitting back in my apartment, reading some boring journal."

"It was interesting hearing Jack complement you on your knowledge about the Alpine grasshopper."

"Yeah, I'm climbing the ladder higher and higher to becoming an expert in entomology," she joked.

"It wouldn't surprise me." He nodded and looked over at their choices of transportation.

"Thanks for coming with me tonight, Sara," he said; this time his voice was much softer. He looked back at her.

Sara smiled. It felt good to hear him say that. "It was a pleasure," she replied softly.

Grissom touched her arm delicately and smiled before he departed from her to reach his car. It was a pleasure for them both.


	6. chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

"Grissom," Catherine came to the office to see him. "What's with you?" she asked after seeing that familiar curl of his lips.

"Um?"

"You seem happy."

"I had nice company last night."

"A date?" she sounded curious.

"No. Just met some old friends."

"Good to see your social life hasn't gone down the drain completely," she said and smirked.

Grissom looked over at her. "You need something?"

"Er, yeah. I will probably need to take a couple of days off soon," she said.

"Reason?"

"I think I'll be forced to take Lindsay to her grandmother and after a terrible tantrum last night... An overdose of yelling, she made it pretty clear she needed me to... be there also."

Grissom chuckled. "Kids can be such a handful," he hummed.

"Yeah, lucky me, I only have one," Catherine mumbled. "So, is it a possibility?"

"I think so. You have two weeks?"

"Yeah, but I won't use more than five days max."

"Okay." He nodded. "Jack and Cynthia asked me to send you their greetings by the way."

"Who?"

"Clearcane? You met them seven years ago."

"Oh, right... the bug couple? Yeah, who can forget them." Catherine shook her head. "Interesting to see they remember me."

"You dozing off in the middle of the conversation seemed to have left quite an impression on them." Grissom sounded amused. "And on me."

"I must've been very tired that night," she sighed.

Grissom tried hard to contain his small smile from forming into a giant grin due to the amusement and the image of his friend barely fighting to stay awake. "Yeah, that's it. You were tired."

"Don't make fun of me, Gil. After last night, I'm really not in the mood," she told him flatly.

Grissom only gestured with his hand before forming a fist and pressing it against his lips. When Catherine finally left, Grissom let out the chuckles as quietly as possible. He should have told Sara that story.

Perhaps in the close future; it certainly seemed like a possibility.

* * *

Exiting into the hallway, Sara almost crashed into Nick. She raised her hand to emphasize her apology when Nick backed away as if by instinct. "What?" For a moment his behavior surprised her.

"I am staying clear from your way for a while."

"What?" Her face scrunched. "Oh, Nick, seriously! It was an accident!" She paused. "Wait, is that why you didn't want to work the Smith case last week with me?" She sounded amused rather than annoyed.

"As much as that may sound odd... no, that's not why. Date ruined."

"Sorry, Nick," she said and pouted. "So, is that it now? You don't like me?"

"Zip it, Sar!"

She chuckled. "Whatever you say." Sara crossed her arms. "How's the new case?"

"Hell," he said simply and looked down at the papers in his hands.

"Why? What are you working with?"

"Women," he sighed and left Sara with that.

Watching Nick walk away, it wasn't long before she heard Grissom's voice behind her. "Ready?"

"Huh?" she turned to face her supervisor. "Oh. Yeah, yeah, I a-..."

A sudden and exceedingly loud female scream stormed through the hallway. A moment later three more screams joined in a rather confusing chorus of unexpected chaos.

Both Grissom and Sara felt their sudden urge to find the source disappear when a small gray ball of fur appeared crawling on the floor rushed towards them with an increasing speed.

"Is...that what I think it is?" Sara asked.

"I think so." Grissom wanted to crouch down and catch the small creature when it zoomed passed him. He missed his chance. Turning around Grissom was pleasantly relieved to find the little ball of fur moving franticly in Sara's hand. "Nice catch."

Slowly rising to his level of view, Sara watched the creature with an amusing smile. "Where did you come from?" she asked as if it could respond.

"Nibbles!" A teenage boy with ginger hair came running towards them. With his flushed face, the poor boy appeared as if he had been chasing the mouse for hours. When he finally reached the right distance, instead of rooting himself to the floor, he ended up sliding on it, barely managing to keep balance, as if he had stepped on liquid detergent.

The boy's attempts pulled out a few smirks from the two adults waiting for a possible explanation of this incident. When the teenager finally managed to halt his movements properly and end up freezing like an ice statue in front of them, Grissom asked him: "Is this... your pet?"

"Yes..." the boy's breaths were easily overpowering his voice to form clear sentences. "He... somehow... escaped... when I...phew... when I wasn't... looking. I'm... I'm sorry." He reached over to Sara to retrieve the mouse.

"Nibbles?" she asked.

"Yes... that's Nibbles." The boy smiled and quickly walked away from them.

"It never ceases to amaze me how a small harmless creature like that can cause such chaos."

"Yes. Especially if it's in a crime lab," Grissom said and glanced at her.

Their walk was shortly interrupted again when they were passing by the waiting area. The room was filled with women with red dyed hair and wearing pink umbrella-like dresses. Five of those women had surrounded the only police officer in the room, demanding an explanation for the "tiny monster" that had just passed through.

Watching this, the two CSIs couldn't help but feel sorry for the young man as he struggled to answer calmly to them.

"Nothing worse than being trapped in a room with demanding Lucy's," Sara said.

"I agree."

She suddenly understood Nick's earlier reaction. "Was this the murder case at the "I Love Lucy" convention that Nick's handling?"

"This is the one."

"I pity the man."

"Ah, everyone gets their turn to suffer." Grissom said before he and Sara calmly resumed their walk.

* * *

"Jack called me this morning," Grissom said on their way to the crime scene. "He asked when it was possible to meet us again."

"Us?" Sara sounded confused.

"Didn't I tell you they loved you?"

"Flattering but not in those words." She smiled.

"You were awake the whole time," he said jokingly.

"That sounds like I have succeeded where others have failed."

"It should." Grissom smirked. Seeing Sara's bewildered stare, he shook his head and chuckled lightly. "I'll tell you later," he said.

They barely made it to the front porch when a couple of uniformed officers and the detective greeted them with either masks or handkerchiefs over their noses.

"Hey, why is e-..." An overwhelming stench cut off Sara's question. "Oh, man, that's..." Her lungs barely took in the stinky air as she felt a sudden urge to cough.

"Sulfurous, like rotting eggs!" Grissom said, trying to protect himself primitively with his hand from the smell attack but it was useless. "And something else quite unpleasant..."

"That's 'cause it _is_ rotten eggs!" the detective responded.

Putting on the appropriate masks, Grissom and Sara cautiously entered the two-story house. The state of the living room was a housewife's nightmare. The body of a middle-aged man lying on the floor was surrounded by hundreds of rotten eggs; with them were tons of animal manure, and the windows were smeared with red paint. "I thought you said it was just rotten eggs," Grissom said as she survived the scene.

"Didn't want to spoil the fun for you," the detective sneered.

"Someone was very angry with this man," Sara noted.

"Pissed," Grissom added, after which he received a slightly surprised look from Sara.

"What?" He looked at her.

It was pretty rare for her or anyone else to hear him use words like that. "Nothing." She shook her head. "Nothing."

* * *

"From the position of his body and the time of death... the house must've been littered _before_ he came inside," Grissom said.

"The killer wanted him to see the mess," Sara responded.

"And smell it. His neighbor said he was always cleaning his house after his girlfriend left him."

"Trying to get rid of her presence over and over..."

"Yeah."

"I wonder what he did to make the killer so angry."

"Whatever it was, the victim died with very dirty thoughts," Grissom said.


	7. chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

Grissom leaned forward on the table in the interrogation room where the suspect, the victim's neighbor, had been brought in earlier. "You killed him because he moved your trash?"

"Yeah! Well, not just that." Townsmith, a short bald man snorted. "He always had some stupid remarks about my cleaning habits. In the end..."

"You had enough and decided to fill up his living room with rotten eggs and cow droppings."

"I figured if he was such an expert, let him clean that up."

Grissom and Sara simply exchanged looks to Townsmith's answer without a word.

* * *

"Patience is a virtue," Sara exhaled as she sat down on the chair in front of Grissom's desk.

"Which not many people have."

"You must be one of the lucky ones," she said and smiled.

"Most of the times," he admitted and flipped through the report. "But at least there's another lesson to be learned."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Never mess with your neighbor's garbage."

Sara chuckled. "The things we learn in this job."

"The things we learn..." Grissom repeated quietly and smiled.

"So, what was so amusing about me staying awake during the dinner with the Clearcanes?"

"Nothing." He looked up. "The last time I brought someone with me... their fascination with the subjects discussed was shown in the form of... snoring."

Sara chuckled again. "Well, that must've turned out to be an interesting evening for you."

"You've no idea. So, I think it was refreshing for them to have a conversation with someone who was outside their field but who was genuinely interested."

"That's a compliment then." Sara said shyly.

Grissom smiled and looked down that the report again.

* * *

The sound of the keys touching the table was somehow transformed into an echo from the emptiness of the gray apartment. He thought nothing of it and instead placed his jacket next to the keys. But then he stopped. Grissom started staring at the place between the jacket and the keys, a narrow but empty space. He stopped to also listen; listen to the silence of the place. No voices, no noise; No one to greet him; no kiss on the cheek or maybe even a hug.

He shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. This was just like every other day after work. He left alone and he came home alone. He liked his privacy. Grissom liked the absence of unnecessary jabbering, annoying distractions.

Walking over to the bookshelf, he pulled out a novel which he had started a week ago. The metallic bookmark was sticking out from the dense white mass of pages. He opened it and walked over to his couch. The total number of pages was 462... Grissom was on page 295. He would have gotten much further but work kept him from reaching that goal. Putting his feet up, Grissom tried to relax on the couch and began reading the new chapter. The silence was his friend. It always had been. It allowed him to work even at home. Work was his life. He had gotten used to that a long time ago.

His eyes looked at the sentences but that's all they did. Grissom soon realized that he was reading the words without paying any attention to them. His thoughts were somewhere else. Work... no real personal life... solitude... He looked up. His eyes traveled across the room until they stopped at his framed butterfly species. Just work...

He looked back at the book and gave it another try. It did not work. He sighed. "Damn," he thought and placed the bookmark back on the same place. Putting the book on the table, he then stood up and slowly approached the butterflies.

The thick ray of light splashed on the glass surface of the frame at the same moment when Grissom stopped in front of it. He began observing the form of their tiny torsos, the shape of their wings, the perfect symmetry of their col-... "Symmetry..." he whispered. Insects are always looking for that perfect symmetry in their mates... Yes, insects do that, but not humans... Not consciously. His face slowly fell as low is it could until his eyes reached that shape for a tear to fall. He wasn't feeling like crying... watching still the butterflies' shapes, it was the thoughts of something connected to those shapes and forms that caused his quiet facial deformation. His heart slammed against his chest with such force that if it had decided to be any crueler, he might've fallen on the floor and possibly never woken up.

He had discovered that symmetry. He found it a long time ago. But knowing that did not bring butterflies in the stomach and weak knees. The knowledge of such discovery shook him immensely and caused his heart to slam against his chest one more time.

His eyelids fluttered. That was painful.

No one could and no one would influence him for this change. It had to be him and only himself.

Work was his life.

Would you risk your life for this discovery? Would you escape your safe, thick shell and reach out to the uncertainty of what you've found. Could Grissom be so brave?

Work was his life. Another hit. This time he let out a cough.

He thought about risking it all; His work – his life, risking it only for her. The results were beautiful; Eye-opening, warm... happy. To have a companion.

Nervously he smiled to this. The smile appeared more like a twitch rather than an expression of happiness. To share this with someone? New, interesting...

But just as a sunny day is soon ruined by a thunderstorm, so was this idyllic image of sharing his life with her... removing himself from the stiffness of solitude, of his habits, the daily routines. She would come; she would change this and then... then what?

The smile disappeared and he shivered as his heart slammed again. She could find something she could not like inside him and decide to leave. She would leave and he would be alone again. But alone without that safe shell he was so used to; He would be open because of her; Changed because of her; Vulnerable because of her...

He swallowed roughly. Grissom glanced at his hands. He passed his youth; the wrinkles showing long ago, the veins more apparent. His mind was the only part of him that time never managed to change.

But only his mind...

He did not deny it. Grissom did not wish to end alone.

The ring of his cell phone quickly interrupted his thoughts. He checked the caller ID before answering. "Grissom."

"Gil, still at work?" Jack asked on the other line.

"Just got off."

"Oh, good. Listen, Cynthia and I were looking at the advertisement for this play... 'She and I' and we wanted you to come with us."

"I would love to join you but I've already seen it."

"Have you? Is it good?"

"I suppose."

"Honey?" Jack's voice distanced itself from the phone. "He's already seen it...aha... that's a good idea. Okay, I'll ask," he said before returning to the phone. "Would you have Sara's number?"

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Why do you need it?"

"Since you've already seen it, I could ask Sara to join us."

"Well, I think you'll get the same response from her."

"She's seen it too?"

"Afraid so," Grissom said and smirked.

"Okay... Do you have her number anyway?"

"Unless you're planning on cheating on Cynthia, Jack, I don't know why you would need it."

Jack laughed. "She was a delightful conversationalist, Gil. We'll probably invite her to come to the ranch."

"You weren't kidding when you told me you loved her." Grissom was surprised by Jack's response, as the Clearcanes had invited only a handful of people to their ranch in the past ten years.

"Intelligent, beautiful _and_ funny? Gil, how often do you find a person like that?" Wasn't long before Cynthia's 'Hey!' was heard in the background to which Jack let out a laugh.

"Sure," Grissom sighed and dictated Sara's number.

"Thanks. Talk to you again. Take care of yourself."

"I don't do otherwise," Grissom said and smiled.

When the conversation was finished, Grissom closed the phone and looked at the butterflies once more.

Symmetry.


	8. chapter 8

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

Note: Something was added that was previously deleted by accident. Thanks for reminding me in the review. : )

* * *

The moment they entered the house, both knew it would take them longer than usual to process the scene: One body, blood on every floor, every possible kitchen appliance a murder weapon.

"Don't you just _love_ these long hours," Sara said sarcastically as she was reaching over for the evidence bag on the table.

"They get you out of the office," he replied lightly and handed her the bag.

She looked up at him and smiled before taking the bag. "Thank you."

Some hours later, they decided to give themselves a break and put something in their stomachs. Stepping out of the house, they settled on the small stone bench in the yard.

Anyone else would've felt their hunger disappear for days after the site of the unfortunate teenager in that house, but for these two, this was just like any other day. It was work.

They began their lunch, or dinner, quietly, neither saying anything and being attentive only to their chosen meals. The bench wasn't a big, so there was barely any distance between them. The only available space had already been taken by the small paper bags, napkins and two plastic spoons.

Being 3 in the morning, there was silence in the air. A neighbor's dog barked a few times, two cars passed and that was the end. Nothing else chose to really disturb this calmness except for the occasional noise from the paper bag.

Grissom inhaled. Somehow the air, even if not unpolluted, was helpful in the way he ate. He glanced at Sara who was looking flippantly at her veggie burger, probably wondering whether to add some sauce or not. His right lip curled up for a moment. She always held her lunch, usually being sandwiches, so delicately. He sighed quietly. He expected this to be an uncomfortable silence for him. After his revelations a few days earlier, Grissom had anticipated this closeness to scare the hell out of him and force him to jump away, distancing himself as farther as possible.

He glanced at her again. Why didn't that happen? He looked around them. Dark, night, silence, a police officer passing by, silence, night... Just another night.

No, this was not just another night for him. This was a quiet, comfortable night of work with Sara. He swallowed jaggedly. He raised his eyebrow and looked at his meal. They were sharing dinner together.

It was a long time ago since they shared a meal during a break together. Long, very long ago...

And yet, it felt comfortable. His heart skipped a beat to send a few tremors through him to highlight the altered situation but that changed nothing of this ease. "Strange...," he thought. His eyes traveled over to her profile. He saw her look ahead, then down at her burger before taking a bite off it. She did not seem to notice his subtle glances. Perhaps she was too tired to try and notice. Grissom touched the spoon with his lips to suck in the greenish substance. She didn't look tired.

"You know..." she started, whilst looking at her burger. "You can just tell me that I have a piece of lettuce stuck on my cheek."

She noticed.

For a moment, Grissom's mouth ceased chewing the food. He was certainly not glaring at her. He soon resumed the chewing and reached over to her face, very close to her lips.

The moment his thumb and index finger touched her skin, Sara quickly moved her face away and looked at him. This caught her off-guard.

"Crumbs," he said, holding the tiny piece between his fingers. He then threw it away and shrugged.

Her eyebrows moved down as she tried to pick the tiny piece of vegetable from her back tooth with her tongue. She then looked back at her meal and took another bite. "Of course...," she thought, "...what other reason could there be."

"What were you like in high school?" he asked her.

Sara looked up, surprised by this question. "I was smart and unpopular. That says it all."

"Not many great memories from there?"

Sara shook her head. "I wasn't a very sociable person, which was probably the biggest problem for me. And there was this kid, Billy. His name was William but everyone called him Billy. He had this habit of teasing me every chance he got. I used to hate him."

Grissom smiled gently. "But nothing physical I hope."

"No, thank god, no. He was just annoying. Cute boy but very annoying. Then, before graduation, he asked me to go with him."

"So it's true then, the person that loves you – teases you," Grissom said and received a look from Sara. He chuckled to this. "Hey, it did happen with you. I'm not making it up."

"The same day he came down with something so he didn't get to go."

"So, this... Billy, you saw him again?"

"We met a couple of times afterwards, then lost touch."

"Oh." Grissom sipped his coffee.

"How was _your_ high school life?"

"I was strange, I was quiet. Didn't have many friends."

"Well, nice to see we had something in common." Sara smiled. "So, you were crush-free?"

"No. I did like this girl."

"Wow, this should be interesting." Sara warmed up her hands and turned slightly towards him.

Grissom looked away and then back at her. "What, you want me to tell you?"

"You owe me. I told you."

Grissom sighed. "She was in my science class. A bit shy but intelligent and sweet."

"Her name?"

"Jorja."

Sara smiled. "Gil Grissom had a crush in high school," she said softly. "What happened? Dated?"

Grissom nodded. "We did. Shared a few nights of intimacy and then... like your history, we lost touch."

"That's a sad ending."

"Well, I have good memories of her so no, not really."

"Huh." Sara took another bite of her burger.

"Done?" Grissom asked her, referring to her lunch.

"Yeah, almost," she replied and sipped the last few drops of her coffee.

* * *

"You called Warrick about the transportation schedule?" Grissom asked Sara as they were walking back to their cars.

"Yes, just five minutes ago," she confirmed.

"Hey, geek-worm!" Someone suddenly shouted behind them.

Sara abruptly stopped. She recognized the voice. "You gotta be kidding me," she said and spun around. Bopping her head once, her face was a mix of shock and confusion at the person standing not far away from them. "Mark?"

The brown-eyed young man, with his hands in the pockets of his jeans grinned. He had unusually curly hair and a thin beard with a color that matched his eyes. "Why is it every time I see you, you have that same look on your face?"

Clearing her throat, Sara shook her head. "Maybe because I _rarely_ see you?"

He chuckled to this. Spreading out his arms, he began to walk towards Grissom and Sara. "Be or be it not?"

"Uh..." Sara glanced at Grissom who was taken by surprise by this man's appearance as much as she was. "Be," she responded and handed her kit to Grissom who took it without a word. She approached her brother and hugged him.

Grissom watched this. Having never met Mark, he had hoped this man wasn't an ex. He did however notice the funny resemblance between Mark and Sara; especially the nose.

"Phew. Too busy to take a shower?" Mark asked.

Sara smiled. She did not seem ready nor willing to show a grin. "It can't be that bad since you were brave enough to hug me," she told him.

"Consequences of working with dead bodies. Awful." Mark smiled. He then spotted Grissom. "Who's this?" he asked.

"Grissom – my...uh, my supervisor," Sara started the introduction.

"Oh, hey." Mark nodded towards Grissom. "Face on a name... cool." He scratched his beard softly while moving his gaze from Grissom to Sara and back a few times.

From the man's face expression, Grissom received the impression that Mark failed to appear surprised. "Who might you be?" he asked.

"Doesn't it show?" Mark quickly pointed at himself and Sara.

Parting his lips, Grissom observed the two people's faces quietly. "Sara's... brother?"

"Yes."

"Ah." Grissom nodded and smiled politely. "This must be a great reunion but..."

Sara quickly understood. "We're working. Um, you have my number?" She turned to Mark.

"Yeah. Call you?"

"Well, yeah."

"Can do." Mark brushed his hand on Sara's hair. "Talk later" he said and nodded once again towards Grissom. He wasn't too keen on staying here longer either.

"So, that's your sibling," Grissom said as he and Sara looked after Mark as he walked away from them in the dark street.

"Yeah. The product of an extremely boring night for my parents."

Grissom looked at her before she looked back at him. He handed the kit back to her. Work was calling...


	9. chapter 9

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

"Kids are getting more and more dangerous these days," Nick said of the finished case.

"Five boys had enough of the school bully so they decided to kill him. It's sad." Sara closed the magazine and stood up. "So, you're not avoiding me anymore?" She turned to a lighter subject.

"I'm not going to come up behind you without you knowing, let's put it that way," he said and smiled.

"Smart," Sara replied and chuckled.

"Gotta go see Robbins about a body. See you, Sara."

"See you, Nick."

The phone rang.

Sara opened her cell phone and read the new message. Her left eyebrow went down, her right eyebrow up. "Um?" She read it again and shook her head. Sara then dialed the number of the sender.

"Grissom," he responded.

"I... got this message on my cell and it says it's from you, but I wanted to double-check to be sure," she said.

"What does it say?"

"Meet me at my place. It's case-related. Grissom."

"I sent it."

Sara was quiet for a moment. "Does it have something to do with the case we just finished?

"Yes."

"What exactly?"

"The psychology on bullying."

"You want me to come over to your place to discuss the psychology of bullying." Her voice was flat.

"Correct."

"A subject that we can discuss here also."

There was brief silence on the other side. A sigh followed. "It was a tough day today for me, Sara," he confessed.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"If I haven't mentioned how much a despise office politics..."

"I think you have," she interrupted him tamely and smiled. Sara was not quite sure but from his tone she received the impression that this man simply needed some quiet company for tonight. "When should I stop by?"

"In about an hour?"

"You got it."

"Thank you."

* * *

He opened the door exactly two minutes after she knocked softly on it. He smiled meekly and stepped aside for her to enter. When she did, a delicious smell overwhelmed her. "Were you... or are you cooking?" she asked.

"I got hungry," he replied and closed the door. "Did you eat before you came?" Grissom asked as he walked over to the kitchen.

"I did, thanks."

"I didn't ask that to offer anything for you to eat in case you haven't. I'm all out."

Sara smiled. Grissom was always a good player with words. "Well, lucky for me my stomach is not empty then."

"Very lucky," he said and put the dishes away.

Sara glanced over at the kitchen and saw a serving for only person. Grissom had cooked only for himself after all. "I had no idea you were also a cook."

"I moonlight," he joked.

Sara smirked to this reply.

"You're early, otherwise all of this mess would've been gone by now," he said. Grissom looked up and noticed Sara standing on the same place since she entered the townhouse. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"No, why?"

"Because you haven't moved from there since you came in."

"Oh..." she started combing the space with her eyes. "I thought I'd have a good look before venturing any further."

"It's not like you haven't been here before."

"I know," she replied and walked over to the couch. "I just never did that the last time I was here." She was about to sit down when the butterfly collection on the wall caught her eye.

With her hands behind her back she approached the frame and began observing the still butterflies. Sara was quiet in her observation; she chose not to say anything for now.

Silently, Grissom walked up to her. He stopped next to her and looked up at the butterflies. He heard nothing from her, prompting him to look at Sara. Her eyes were slightly squeezed by the surrounding muscles. Grissom knew that stare. She was interested in this. "Checking my work?"

Sara smiled softly to this deja vu. "You..." she pointed at the frame, "... did this?"

"Yeah."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at its perfection then."

"Insects are a thing of beauty."

"Mm. Both in life and death..." she said softly. There was a longer pause as both observed the contents of the frames. Sadly for Grissom, he couldn't remember anyone taking their time and interest for this important piece of his private space, as he stood next to her, observing along with her. Sara was silent and curious.

Having seen the specimens countless times before, Grissom's attention drifted away from them and stopped at the reflection on the glass; he saw himself, and next to him with clothes which color was similar to his own, he saw her. He noticed that their chins were on the same level, their eyes curious – hers more than his – and at times, if either of them was to move an inch and change the angle of the light hitting the glass, their reflections would merge into the frame, the wings of the insects, the colors and patterns.

"There's something very connecting with butterflies and symmetry," she suddenly said.

Grissom quickly looked at her. But Sara didn't move.

"I could almost think that they're a perfect example of it." She then stepped aside and walked back to the couch.

He stood there a while longer, looking at her. She was a curious little creature, wasn't she? "And you wouldn't be far from the truth..." he thought.

Grissom sat down next to her with a pair of books in his hand. He noticed Sara's look. "What?"

"You've got books on psychology," she said, almost surprised.

"What's so strange about it?"

"I'm trying to come up with a good response to that," she replied and smiled.

They moved over to their discussion of the case and their general observation of the high school youth. It continued to a long discussion...

* * *

His brain was tired now; his eyes heavy. Grissom glanced at clock. It was late. How late though, he was in no condition to really tell. The conversation was long. He hadn't had such long conversations, not after work and certainly not often. His eyelids were persistent. Even if he chose to imitate a Tom and Jerry cartoon and hold them up with matchsticks, it would not help. Slowly the space in front of him was getting narrower and narrower. His tiredness was winning over him...

He closed his eyes.

Something shook him and he opened them again. He felt something heavy on his right shoulder. Grissom turned and saw Sara's chin resting on his shoulder, her eyes looking sweetly back at him. He jerked his head back.

"You fell asleep?" she spoke quietly with a teasing smile.

"Tired..." He replied. Grissom didn't move. He didn't want to move.

She chuckled. "You're never too tired, Griss," she said and raised herself. She quickly crushed the distance between them when she came closer to him, his face... his lips.

His heart slammed against his chest again. He gasped. Grissom panicked. What was she doing? "Sara?" he asked her cautiously. He was losing control, with her every move, over everything but his speech, and even with that he was closer to stuttering.

"What?" her voice was low, husky, sexy. Her breath touched his lips. "When I was checking your... work earlier, you could've just easily pinned me against the wall again..."

"You didn't ask," he blurted out, shocked at his own response.

She smiled. "You wanted to." Her lips touched his upper lip. Her tongue almost ran across that piece of flesh.

When she released it, his pulse rose up. "You're in dangerous territory with this." He warned her, his voice entering the same tone as hers.

"I always take risks," he voice was now a whisper. Her body glued itself to his as she sat on his lap, her face never moving away.

"Well..." he took a deep breath, staring intently at her chocolate eyes. "It could have very..." Her lips touched his lower lip this time. "...very negative consequences."

She smirked. "For who is the question."

His hands touched her thighs. "You are aware of the risk involved here..." he even dared to caress them.

"A simple word can end it, you know," she told him and kissed his chin.

He did not say it. "Miss Sidle..."

She looked at him, her chocolate color morphing into chalk. "Yes, Mr. Grissom?"

His lips curled. He said nothing more but stopped her teasing with his lips. "Everything has its end," he said and took her face, "Even your teasing," and touched her lips again.

She chuckled softly into his mouth.

Grissom smiled. He would put a full stop to her continuous teasing. Grabbing her wrists, he pinned her down on the couch. "You work under me, Sara, remember that," he said.

"Your faithful subordinate," she replied and chuckled. He kissed her again... and deeper.

His eyes opened quickly again. His heart was still racing. Grissom found himself staring at the empty space before him.

A dream; another subconscious fantasy.

He swallowed and then sighed. Leaning back, he closed his eyes briefly, but only briefly, fearing that those images might return.

Grissom then heard a soft moan. He looked down and saw Sara sleeping on his lap. He sighed again. Grissom thought about moving away immediately but then she turned her face towards him. When did she fall asleep? He licked his lips nervously and looked around again. "Okay..." he whispered.

As slowly and smoothly as he could, Grissom managed to move away from the couch without disturbing her.

He entered his bedroom and took out a spare pillow and blanket from the closet. He came back to the living room and approached the couch were Sara was sleeping.

He tilted his head. She made another soft moan. Sara seemed so tame when asleep. Her eyelids covering those soft eyes, her lines easy, her lips closed. She was peaceful. Even more gentle, helpless. His eyebrows furrowed. This was her; this was his Sara Sidle; the tough, spunky lady, one hell of a CSI, one hell of a woman. Now, she was resting, helpless; her fingers on her chest as if protecting it; a fragile being devoured in her own mound of dreams.

But that face did not show the same sign of content as when her head was resting on a softer surface like his lap. Kneeling down, Grissom slid his arm beneath her head to lift it up enough for him to slip the pillow under.

He managed. The pillow was in its place. Now he should lower her head slowly...

She moved. Her head tried to adjust to the surface of his arm, leading her face closer to his. Grissom hoped she would stop. He could try to place her head back but that would only wake her. He chose against it... Unfortunately for him.

Her face moved closer. Her nose almost touched his chin. She breathed out; a soft, quiet breath that touched his lips. He backed his face. She was too close.

Dangerously close.

His eyes roamed each line on her face, even the color of her lipstick. Her closeness increased her scent. That natural, feminine scent, the one designed to attract the potential mate... And it was sweet to him. He breathed in while still looking at her.

His heart was unusually quiet. It did not break through his chest like it did in his dream. It was quiet, not violent like in his fantasy, maybe because this was real; she was close to him physically even if asleep. Her head lifted itself up as if she was searching for something. Grissom pulled his face away even further. Her head leaned back again. He sighed in relief.

But then her fingers touched his cheek. Now his heart started to panic. Grissom did not move away still, fearing like a pray, hoping that his stillness would not cause the predator to chase him. Her hand did not even take his cheek, it was only her fingers that touched it... And kept touching it. Each stroke, each touch irritated his inner nerves, those under the surface, the little things not visible to anyone else but him. The irritations were sweet but not something he had been aquatinted with. They were unfamiliar to him.

He glanced at her face. Sara seemed undisturbed by this. This was only a dream for her.

Grissom licked his lips and slowly, very slowly took her hand. He moved away from his face. Finally her head touched the pillow. He stood up and took a step back. His fingers touched his forehead. This was too much for him. His hand dropped. He shook his head and took the blanket.

Now she was comfortable. She should sleep well this way.

Grissom needed to get some sleep. This was more than he could handle for a day.

* * *

Her cell phone rang. It rang once, twice... The third time caused Sara to poke her head from under the blanket and quickly grab the phone. "Sidle..." she said in her sleepy voice.

"You have an hour before shift starts. You better get here."

"Um, Grissom?" Her eyes were slowly opening. Her surroundings were revealed. She jumped on the couch. "What the-..." She wasn't at home; not even in a bed. This was Grissom's place. Not hers; his!

"Yes, and good afternoon."

"I fell asleep here..."

"Yes, you did."

"Wonderful," the mumbled.

"One hour, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," she replied and closed the phone.

Sara sat up and hid her head in her hands. "Oh, man," her muffed voice sounded.

* * *

And hour later she found Grissom in the lab, observing something with the microscope.

"Hey," she greeted him.

"Hey," he said absently, still focused on his work.

"New case?" she asked.

"No, just an experiment." Grissom finally looked up at her. "Slept well?"

"Um," she smirked and shoved her hands in the back pockets of her pants. "Yeah."

"Good." He nodded and returned to the microscope.

"So, thanks for waking me up."

"You would've been late otherwise."

"How do _you_ know that?"

At that moment Warrick was passing by the lab when the documents he was carrying slipped through and got scattered on the floor.

"We did go at it the entire night, Sara, I would be surprised if that didn't drain away some of your energy," Grissom said, referring to their exhaustible discussions.

"Well, it's good to have a worthy challenger," she said and chuckled.

Warrick froze in his spot, crouching with the now, gathered documents in his hands.

"Thank you," Grissom replied.

"Why didn't you wake me last night?" she asked him.

"You seemed way too tired to move. Even if calling you a taxi was an option, and driving you back myself." He lied, of course. Grissom wanted her to sleep over. It was like an experiment for him. He wished to know what it would feel like for her to be in his private space like that.

"Very thoughtful."

Grissom smiled and looked up at her.

Warrick finally stood up and sighed heavily. "Great. Out of everyone here, _I_ had to be the one to hear that." He shook his head and walked away, unnoticed by neither Grissom nor Sara.


	10. chapter 10

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

When she exited her car and found the tents set up a few feet away, Sara smiled. She shouldn't have been surprised when Mark told her the location of their meeting. "A crappy motel wasn't good enough?" she joked.

Tending to the fire, Mark took a glimpse of her over his shoulder. "Are you serious?"

Sara chuckled briefly. "I always am, Mark." She shoved her feet through the thick piles of fallen leaves and even managed to trip on a raised root of one of the trees. "Nothing like nature."

"Less annoying than the city," Mark said and gestured to her to sit on one of the logs that were placed around the warm fire.

"I see two tents," she noted while lowering herself to sit down.

"Ah, the left one would be mine and Lydia's and the other one is where Sanja and Christian are."

"And where are they now?"

"Sanja had a cousin here so she and Christian went over there for a visit. And Lydia went to see a sick friend. Nothing serious."

"Didn't go with her?"

"She wanted to go by herself."

"Okay. Lydia... So, that's the name of the new chain around your neck from now on?" Sara smiled.

"Very smart, geek-worm."

"I wanted to meet her."

"If she gets back sooner, you might get the chance."

"Ah. It was more likely for me to see a pig fly than you getting married."

"You don't choose who your heart attaches itself to."

"Is that what happened with Lydia?"

"Yeah. She understands me and puts up with all my shit; I understand her and put up with all her shit."

"And...?"

"And that's it."

"Oh." Sara turned her stare to the fire. "That's sweet." She glanced at her fingers. "She must have a mountain of patience to understand you," Sara quietly, almost jealously.

Mark took the hint. "I wish we stayed close..." He looked at her.

"Me too."

"What's going on with you, geek-worm?" he asked her.

"Despite work you mean? I don't know... can't say there is much."

Mark chuckled. "You really need to find some friends."

"Hey, I have them! I just don't ... hang out with them so often."

"Are they co-workers?" he asked.

Sara glared at him.

"Let's be honest. From what I've known about you since you left college, your 'group of friends' usually consisted of people you see often at work. Am I right?"

Sara looked back at the fire. "I'm picky."

"You really are."

"Not like you're much different."

"No, but then again I've never stayed in one place too long," Mark said and nudged her elbow with his.

"You've been like that since you hit puberty."

Mark took out a small apple and stuck it on a small branch. "Here." He handed her the branch.

"Huh." Sara twirled the branch, looking at the fruit. "Just like when we were kids..." She spoke quietly and lowered the branch.

"By ourselves..." Mark took another branch with an apple and lowered it to the fire.

"Was a good escape from home at times."

"Yeah." He sighed. "So that was Gil Grissom there," he changed the heavy subject.

"That's him."

"He doesn't get out often."

Sara glanced at him.

"I didn't say that as a bad thing."

Sara smirked. "He likes his work."

"Just like you."

Sara shrugged.

"So, what is he to you?"

"He's my supervisor."

"Don't shit with me, geek-worm."

"I'm serious!"

Mark looked at his sister.

Sara sighed and closed her eyes. "Don't start staring at me, Mark, or I'll break your neck." She knew he did not believe her response concerning Grissom.

Mark looked back at the fire. "What is he to you?" he repeated his question.

Sara opened her eyes and looked up. "Why?"

"'Cause he's the only person I've heard you mention more than once."

Sara didn't respond but looked down at her hands and back at the burning fire. Her brother had a way of making her answer questions she would usually persist on keeping quiet. She hoped he would be unsuccessful this time.

"'Cause you didn't know anyone in Vegas when you came and you moved anyway."

"He needed a favor. And the lab is the second best in the country."

"You left everything because he needed a favor."

She was quiet.

"And you stayed," Mark continued.

"I always adapt to my work environment sooner or later."

"He's a friend?"

Sara didn't answer.

"So, you like it here?"

"It's okay."

"Lover?" he asked her about Grissom.

Sara swallowed an annoying lump in her throat.

He looked at her. "Oh, my, god..." he laughed. "He's neither," he said softly.

Sara brought the apple to her lips to cool it with a cold blow of air.

"My little geek-worm, what happened to you?" He was watching her with near astonishment. He lifted his hand and brushed her hair.

Sara moved her head away. "Because I choose not to give you an answer, you find that odd?"

"Oh, you gave me plenty of answers."

"Stop asking questions like that then."

"My..." he brought the apple closer for a bite. "He already has a huge chunk of you in him..."

"That's a bit immature."

"You betrayed yourself."

She huffed and looked sharply back at him. "You knew I would crack, that's why."

"The power of matching DNA," he said and laughed.

"Funny," she didn't sound impressed.

"I'm good."

"Why did you bother anyway?"

"Because..." he put his arm over her shoulders, "..._sis_, I wanted to know if you were going to be taken care of." Mark kissed her forehead and removed his arm. He then took a bite of the apple. "I do wonder about you, you know."

Sara stared at him. "I've been doing fine by myself, Mark."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Then?" she sounded demanding now.

"He's getting under your skin. I know you, whether you'd like to admit that or not."

"You only met him for five minutes."

"Yes, I did."

Sara looked at her burned apple. "No one knows me or him. Don't judge like that, it's not you."

"You've never mentioned anyone else you've met the way you have with him, and your reactions earlier? It's a deep penetration. I'm right."

"You think you are," she said and ate the apple.

Mark glanced at her and smiled. Sara was his little sister. He wanted her to finally find something good. He would need another look to be sure of this, although he had little doubt that he was wrong about Gil Grissom.

* * *

Sara stood in the hallway, looking at the entrance of Grissom's office with her arms crossed. Last night became longer than expected. She and Mark had a lot of stuff worth catching up to.

She sighed. It would lead to this and it made her feel slightly uncomfortable. Her left foot found itself on her right one as she tapped her fingers on the soft fabric of her shirt. Grissom was the only person who came to mind for her following plan. Mark would certainly be pleased if her plan materialized successfully, but she was not quite certain about herself. It felt strange.

She finally took a deep breath and stepped forward.

When Sara entered Grissom's office she was quite surprised to find her supervisor reading a book about dream interpretation.

"Since when are you interested in the meaning of dreams?" she asked him.

"_Since you appeared in them_..." he told himself. "It's about a case. Killer used the interpretation of his dreams to commit murder," he made an excuse.

"Well, that's pretty frightening."

"Yes." Grissom closed the book and looked up at her. "Is there a reason for your visit?"

"Uh, yeah." Sara closed the door of the office before she walked over to the chair and sat down. "Met up with Mark yesterday and... well, he's having this get-together for friends in honor of his engagement and he asked me to come."

"Okay." Grissom leaned forward.

"He also... asked me to bring someone with me if I wanted."

Grissom could tell where this was going but he decided to play clueless to it. "Aha."

"_But_, he asked me to bring someone that actually met him. So, because you're the only one around here that actually _has_ met him, I figured you'd be a good guest."

"A good guest." Grissom sounded amused.

"A good companion as you once put it?"

Grissom smiled. He found her invitation to be a good sign for her gradual acceptance of him.

"When?"

"Sunday."

"Sure."

Sara watched his reaction a while longer before nodding. "Great." She then stood up and went toward the door.

"Sara?" Grissom called her.

"Yeah." Sara turned around.

"Thanks," he said and smiled softly.

Sara smiled back gently. "My pleasure, Grissom," she almost whispered. She opened the door and walked out of his office.

Grissom leaned back in his chair, watching the empty doorway and playing with the frames of his glasses. Sara was a much closed person when her family had been in question... This must've been a big step for her. He felt honored in a way, even if his first impressions of Sara's brother were a little strange and not all that positive.


	11. chapter 11

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

He found her pouring herself a cup of hot tea in the break room. "Long night?" he asked Sara.

She yawned. "Oh, yeah," Sara responded, trying hard to hold back another yawn.

Warrick smiled. "So, what are you up to tomorrow?"

"Oh..." Sara blew softly at the steam from the tea. "Going to an engagement party."

"Alone?" he asked and took a cup for coffee.

"No," she brought her lips closer to the edge of her cup. "Grissom's joining me."

"And this is a party?"

"Aha."

"Grissom – party, Grissom – party..." Warrick bit his lip and shook his head. "Unless it's formal, can't really picture it."

"I think it'll be decent," Sara looked at him and smiled. "You have any plans?" she asked him.

"I wish. I'm still on the case."

"I pity you," Sara said and grinned. "Wanna go to the party tomorrow instead of me?"

"And spend the night with Grissom? No, thanks," he replied.

Sara chuckled, unaware of the impressions Warrick was having of her newly developed relationship with Grissom.

"Well, have fun," Warrick said and tapped her back before walking away.

"Thanks, you too!"

"Oh, I always do!" he replied without turning back.

* * *

Sara put on her sunglasses and curiously went through the parked choices of transportation with her gaze. She smirked. There was even a pair of bicycles.

"Your brother must have a lot of interesting friends," Grissom said, observing the variety of vehicles even if was a small number. All that was missing here was a monster truck.

"Oh, he does. Not sure how many of those made it here. Some hate the very idea of marriage."

"That sounds like you know them."

"I've met a few of them," Sara replied and shrugged.

They passed some trees and exited at a wide and beautiful meadow. There was a large diversity of people here, from aging hippies (much to Sara's dismay) to individuals with piercing on every imaginable place not hidden by their clothing.

Grissom smiled to this. "Colorful group."

"Yeah." Sara agreed.

A moment later, everyone began taking their places on the blankets. Apart from Grissom and Sara and a young man dressed as a pirate, everyone had either sat down or lay down.

"Is there supposed to be a show?" Grissom asked in confusion.

"No idea," Sara responded. "You want to..." she nodded toward the pink blanket next to them.

"No." He responded.

Their heads suddenly turned towards the source. The music was emerging from a speaker but one that was very well hidden.

"I got you babe?" Grissom's eyebrow shot up.

Sara glanced at him.

"Hey, I _was_ young once," he told her and shrugged.

Sara smiled and looked back at the pirate.

A few whispers and a giggle diverted the couple's eyes further east. Mark and a young brunette appeared barefooted, dressed in jeans and red t-shirts; the woman carrying a crown made of green leafs on her head.

Sara slowly removed her sunglasses. "You really have _got_ to be kidding me..." she whispered while watching the couple walk hand in hand toward the pirate.

"Hey!" an older woman whispered to them from her place. "The ceremony started, maybe you should sit down," she told Grissom and Sara.

Looking at each other, they both then looked back at her and noticed that their earlier decision to remain standing had attracted an unwelcome attention from the surrounding guests.

"Maybe we should sit down," Sara suggested.

Grissom sighed. "Very well."

With her legs crossed and the sunglasses in her hands, Sara continued watching the "ceremony" unraveling in front of them. Her attention was slowly cut when she felt Grissom's warm arm pressing against hers. Glancing at this and then at him, she noticed the lack of comfort due to the closeness.

"It's a small blanket," Grissom said and dusted his hands off.

"Looks like it," Sara responded.

"Friends, welcome to this wonderful witnessing of Mark and Lydia's..." the pirate started speaking as the song continued playing in the background.

"I thought this was an engagement party," Grissom said quietly to Sara.

"I thought so too," Sara confessed.

"Who would like to go first?" the pirate asked.

"I think I'll give it a go," Lydia smiled and turned to Mark. "My love... This little heart here had a lot of pain before you. I thought I had some illness or something. Then, you came. It stopped hurting. Ten years ago we became friends. Ten years later we're still friends, but we gained something." She placed his hand on her heart. "This. It's stupid to say I love you because I know you can feel it." Lydia leaned in and kissed him.

Everyone applauded. Sara's eyes fell on the glasses in her hands. She tilted them slightly and saw Grissom's face on them. He had glanced at her. Only a smile was exchanged through those reflections on her sunglasses.

Mark took Lydia's hand and smiled. "What can I say, Lydia. I've been through tough times, and some almost managed to beat the crap out of me. Was getting pretty lonely in here. Then you showed up. You wanted to care about me. I don't know why you did it then... But I'm beginning to realize it now. You know me, you always did. You are my love and my soulmate. We realized ten years ago that we're stuck with each other... And I love it," he grinned. Mark kissed her.

Sara smiled. "He was never too much of a poet," she said, joining in the applause.

Grissom leaned closer to Sara. "_When emotion is love... everyone's a poet_," he said and glanced at her.

Sara glanced back and smiled once again but nervously to this.

The words were exchanged, followed by the tongues and kisses between the newlywed couple as the ceremony came to its end. As if on cue, everyone began standing up and cheering.

"Oh, good." Sara said and was offered a hand by Grissom who had stood up before her. "Thank you," she smiled once she was on her feet.

That was a nice ceremony," Grissom said.

"You think?"

Grissom looked at her. "Yeah. Unusual," he said and smiled.

"Just don't let Mark hear you saying that," she told him.

"Ego boost?"

"Yes."

"Everyone!" Mark called to the guests, with his arm around Lydia's waist. "Thanks for coming." He grinned. "Friends are a person's blood. You kept me alive; you helped me in my most fucked up moments. I wouldn't be here without you." He glanced at Lydia who kissed his lips briefly. "That's the reason why I wanted you to be here. Who better else to share this great day for me and Lydia with but you!"

Satisfied cheers were heard as a response.

"Before I turn this short speech into a novel, I'll stop and thank you all again. Oh, also!" He chuckled. "I'm happy that my dear sister, Sara," he pointed towards her. "Along with her fiancé was able to come." He received strange looks from the couple but ignored them.

When the guests finally dispersed, Grissom and Sara approached the newlyweds. "Very funny," Sara told him.

Mark chuckled.

"Fine ceremony," Grissom said, trying to avoid the earlier absurdity.

"Thanks, Gil," Mark smiled. "I see she talked you into coming here."

Grissom faked a smile. "Yes, she did."

"An engagement party, huh?" Sara crossed her arms.

"We changed our minds," Mark said.

"And we do that very often," Lydia added.

"You should've mentioned it. I would've brought a gift," Sara told him.

"A gift? You?" Mark snorted. He then turned to Grissom. "Being a nightshift supervisor must be boring, eh, Gil?"

Grissom was taken aback by his question and it did not help in the smoothening of the young man's image in his eyes. He tilted his head. "Sara never told me what you do."

"We travel," Mark responded.

"You work in the traveling industry or..."

"No, no, we travel for pleasure. For fun. So, no, I don't have a steady job."

"Me neither," Lydia chimed in.

"We take something, earn enough money and hit the road. So, we travel."

"It's really fun." Lydia nodded and giggled.

"Really. What places have you been to?" Grissom sounded unimpressed.

"Asia, Europe... Next stop is Australia. I think that's the best way to live. Travel and see what's on this planet. I can't imagine myself being stuck working for... oh, 40 or more years and then when I'm, like, 95 to finally realize, oh, no! What have I done with my life?" Mark grabbed his head, acting a devastated man. "I'm not a fan of people being slaves to money."

"But without money, you can't do much traveling," Grissom said.

"Oh, we just pay for the food, the rest is free," Lydia said.

"How so?"

"We go by hitch-hiking, have our tents and sleeping bags."

"Doesn't sound very safe," Grissom said. "Especially hitch-hiking."

"Oh, we've heard that from a lot of people. It's called fear of living."

"I would think it's called staying safe."

"Sure it's a risk. But everything in life is a risk. Even your job. What we do is an adventure." Mark chuckled. "Sara never quite understood that." He looked over at his sister. "Our childhood forced us to find ways to escape from what was happening. She found it in science. I - in traveling."

"Mm..." Grissom glanced at Sara.

"You like bugs I've been told," Mark said.

"I suppose you have to if you're to be an entomologist."

"We've seen insects on our trips that would fascinate even you." Mark smiled.

"No doubt, there are still unknown species out there."

"And sometimes that's the best way – remaining undiscovered. Allowing the world to keep some of its mysteries."

Grissom only smirked to this.

Mark suddenly noticed something in the distance. "Sis, look who showed up," he said.

She turned around. Her eyes narrowed. "Dan and Chatty? They have a baby already?" Sara asked, seeing a couple with an infant behind them.

"Yeah, three weeks ago. Come on!" Mark grabbed Sara's hand and pulled her away.

"I'll be right back," Sara said quickly to Grissom before she disappeared.

Watching them go, Grissom heard Lydia giggle. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm sorry," Lydia apologized and blushed. "So, you're Sara's fiancé." She grinned at him.

"No," he said, correcting the young woman. "Mark exaggerated there."

"Oh." She looked over at the trees where Mark and Sara disappeared.

"Are they close?"

"Mark and Sara? Don't think so. They talk from time to time but I can't say they're tight."

"Mm..." Grissom glanced at the trees.

"You don't seem to like him very much," Lydia noticed.

Grissom looked at her, his expression serious. There was something that he found irritating about the young man, but was unable to describe it. "I don't know him well."

"Oh, whether you do or don't, you'll warm up to him sooner or later. It happens with everyone that meets Mark."

The young woman's innocence and her child-like features helped her words sink into him easily. The line on his lips was drawn as a result. "You think so?"

"Oh, yes. Mark is a little unusual. You try to think outside the box, keep an open mind, you'll find him a good person."

Grissom glanced over at the trees. "I see." He then turned back to Lydia. "What about you?"

"Um, what?"

"Well, what do you do?"

"Oh, ah... Well, I... I'm a teacher."

"Really... What do you teach?"

"History."

"Interesting."

"Thank you. I wish my students were as enthusiastic. You can learn so much from history that can actually be helpful for the future."

"That's true. It's a shame that so much of it is manipulated."

"Yes... I know that. I've managed to get into trouble with the board quite a few times for giving my students 'inaccurate' facts. But I want them to know as much of the truth as possible, so..."

"Like what?"

"Well, oh... Where to start... There's so many." She giggled. "For example, you know in..."

"Lydia!" someone called over to her.

"Oh, they made it." Lydia giggled, suddenly becoming excited by the unknown arrivals. She looked back at Grissom. "I'm sorry, Gil. I really have to see my friends."

"Sure, don't let me keep you." He smiled.

"Enjoy the day!" she said and left.

"_At least she's nice_," Grissom told himself and then looked over at the trees. He waited, she didn't show up.

He became curious and went after her. He did not find her or Mark there.

Grissom took an unwilling tour of the green meadow, looking for Sara. An instrumental melody got some of the guests dancing, others drinking, and a third bunch just talking and laughing. He stopped for a moment and shoved his hands in his pockets. There was such a variety of interesting people that it got him smiling.

Suddenly, something grabbed his arm and spun him around. A young woman with bright red hair and a colorful tattoo on her neck grinned at him. "Wanna dance?" she asked and started moving to the music.

"Ah, no, thank you," he said politely and started walking back when she grabbed his hand.

"Hey, it's fun!"

"As much as the offer is tempting, I'll have to pass."

The woman shrugged and skipped away from him like a ten-year-old.

Grissom turned around again and was met by an older man in baggy clothes and long gray hair in a ponytail.

"You a friend of Mark?" he asked Grissom with a smile.

"Y-eah, sort of."

"Great wedding, don't you think? The old bastard finally got pinned down!" the man joked and laughed.

"He sure did." Grissom smirked. "Excuse me." He quickly slipped away and continued walking.

The song had finished and another one began. He had barely taken ten steps when he was quickly surrounded by ten young women – half of them blonde. "Are you married?" one of them asked in a squeaky voice.

"Uh, no, wh-..."

"He's not married!" the brunette next to her said, sounding overly excited.

"Wh-..." Grissom did not get a chance to ask when he was quickly pulled away and dragged over to a spot where four more other women were waiting

"Okay, okay," a hazel-hared girl said and started giggling. She seemed very excited, much like everyone else in this circle. "So! We have our bachelor now; next we need the white scarf. Amanda, do you have it?"

"Yep!" A girl with pigtails held up a scarf and threw it over to the other girl.

"Wait!" Grissom held his hands before the girl could put the scarf over his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, you don't know." The girls giggled. "I'm sorry. It's a game. We do this on many weddings. We pick a bachelor and blindfold him like this..." She brought the scarf close to him but Grissom stopped her.

"I don't think I want to be a part of this."

"But you didn't hear the rest! We blindfold you, spin you around and then we stand here, and who ever you..." she giggled, "..._touch_, gets the luck to be married. Not to you of course, although if you're interested..."

"I'm already taken, thanks," Grissom responded, smiling graciously.

"Ah, that's too baaaad!" The girl pouted. "So, wanna participate?" she then grinned.

"I'd love to but..."

"Please... What's your name?"

"Gil Grissom."

"Please, Gil Grissom! You'll make one of us very, very happy if you took a part in our game. It won't take long!"

"Well, I'm actually looking for my... friend and..."

"Please, Gil Grissom, please!" the girl persisted and the others joined in an annoying choir.

"Oh, uh," Grissom looked at the anticipating faces of the girls and women. "Okay." He gave in.

"Yippie!" the girl squeaked and quickly got behind him.

"_Why am I doing this?"_ he thought and sighed as the scarf was being placed over his eyes.

"Can you see this?" he heard a woman's voice.

"See what?"

"Great!" the woman said and started spinning Grissom slowly around.

After he finally stopped, and feeling a little dizzy, Grissom almost tripped and fell before regaining the right balance. "This is ridiculous," he thought and reached out. "Now what?" he asked.

"Now, go whichever direction you want and make a girl happy!" someone said which got all the women and girls laughing.

"Okay." Grissom turned to his left and heard a few gasps. He then did a 180 degree spin and stepped forward, touching some woman's arms.

He then heard a very loud, very happy scream which nearly left him deaf again. Grissom had to remove the blindfold.

"Oh, my god! It's me! It's me!" the 'chosen' girl started jumping up and down. She hugged Grissom tightly. "Thank you!"

Grissom nodded and slowly backed away, leaving the girls and women lost in their own so-called pre-wedding frenzy.

"Now..." he looked around and continued his search, hoping that there would not be any more interruptions.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Grissom found her sitting in the driving seat of the car. He came in from the other side. "What are you doing in here?" he asked her.

"I decided to wait here 'till the whole thing's finished," Sara responded, tapping the steering wheel with her fingers.

"Why?"

Sara bit the insides of her mouth, eyes up, shaking hear head. She looked back at the wheel and then at him. "You know, you're very lucky you're an only child, Griss."

There was silence.

"What happened?" The swift change of mood worried him.

"Nothing." She looked away.

Grissom watched her, studying her face, the biting of her lower lip, the shifting of her eyes, the sigh... "Mark?" he asked cautiously.

She pressed her lips tightly together. "You... can stay if you want, but I would prefer going home."

"You okay?" he asked her.

"Fine," she replied and turned on the engine. Sara felt Grissom's hand on her wrist.

"Maybe I should drive."

She smirked. "I may not be in my best mood, but I haven't gotten that suicidal, Grissom."

"Good. But I still think I should drive."

Sara looked over at him, or more correctly, she glared at him. Unfortunately for her, Grissom didn't back off. "Fine," she mumbled and turned off the engine.

They both exited the vehicle and switched places.

When Sara sat down, she buckled up and immediately dropped her head back with a stone-heavy sigh.

Grissom did not start the car right away. Instead, he kept his hand on the keys and his eyes on her.

All the noise from outside did not exist in here. It was quiet. Quiet enough for him to whisper to her. "Want to tell me?"

Sara sighed again but did not respond.

Grissom waited a while longer but nothing happened. He then wordlessly started the engine and pulled the car out of the parking space.

"He's one of the only two persons in this world who can push my buttons and he knows it..." Sara finally said.

Grissom looked over at her. His eyebrows furrowed.

* * *

Note: The scene of Grissom with the women might have been a little OOC for him but it was too good to pass up. Hope you liked it. Thank you for the reviews! 


	12. chapter 12

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

His watch showed 10 PM. It had been a three hour drive back to Sara's apartment complex. She was quiet through out the trip. He could not remember such silence from her since he gave her a ride home... after her consumption of alcohol had gotten her in trouble. 

The engine was turned off and complete silence dominated once more. He looked over at her. Sara was sitting there, fingers closer to her lips, thinking of things he did not have access to at the moment.

He gave her time. "Sara..."

"We were close as kids," Sara finally said, her hand falling on her lap. "We had to be."

Grissom tilted his head, watching her and listening attentively to her.

"We always had a way of getting back at each other, whether the pervious action of the other had been intentional or not." She kept her eyes on the window next to her.

"Like when you found his bag of weed?"

Sara turned her face to him. "You remember that?" she managed to smile weakly.

Grissom shrugged and smiled softly back at her.

"I didn't know what it was. I was a kid... our parents tried to keep us away from those dangerous substances... especially me." She looked ahead.

"What happened earlier?" he decided to ask.

"Ah..." Sara shrugged. "After we met the couple with the baby, Mark and I got into this weird conversation about life partners and..." She paused. How could she explain to Grissom her brother's unique way of getting to her most intimate of places and irritating the hell out of them? She looked down at her hands. "He can make me laugh in a second but..." Sara sighed. "He can also upset me pretty easily."

"Why is that?"

"I used to believe before that he was the only person in the world who could get to me, understand what I was going through." She looked at Grissom. "Our parents certainly didn't understand us as kids... none of my..." she smirked, "friends did as well. I guess that stuck."

"So, his constant traveling isn't the real reason why you two don't keep in touch often."

Sara shook her head. "What can I say, Griss? We've got a complicated relationship."

Her eyes looked so sad; her gaze could always have such might. She smiled weakly and opened the door of the car. 

He watched her walk towards to the entrance. His tongue touched his lips. "Hey, Sara?" he called her. When she turned around, he asked, "Would you like some company tonight?"

The line on her lip stretched out briefly. She appreciated his offer. "I'll be fine," she told him and turned around again.

"Okay... night, Sara."

"Good night, Grissom," she glanced at him and disappeared behind the closing doors.

Grissom sat back and gripped the steering wheel. For a moment a thought occurred of him running after her, insisting that she should not spend the night alone. Perhaps that's what her brother did; he reminded her of her loneliness... yet again.

Then the thought disappeared. If she needed someone to be with her, she wouldn't have held that wish back. He respected that. Grissom started the engine and slowly drove away.

* * *

She watched his car disappear in the night behind her curtain. Sara was surprised to find him still there. She could see his hand on the wheel, the hesitation on his fingers. She swallowed, thinking of the possibility that he would indeed come to her tonight, despite her refusal. 

But she saw him driving away. A feeling of slight disappointment came over her. Maybe she should have accepted his proposal. She turned around and threw her keys on the table. What would have happened if he came? Talk about their isolating state? Do some soul bonding? Comical... at least for now. She could dive into it but... would he?

Her phone rang. "Hello," she answered.

"I'm sorry," his voice was heard.

Sara looked down, bringing her arm around her waist. "I know," she replied softly.

"I didn't mean to twist your day this badly."

"Hey, flowers everywhere? Blankets? It was already bad, Mark," she even joked.

Mark chuckled tenderly. "I'm really glad you came though."

"Despite it all, I wouldn't like to have missed it."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Are we good?"

Sara sighed, circling the space before her with her gaze. "I guess we are," she replied.

"I thought you would've become immune to all my crap by now."

"Yeah, I wish I was. But I'm not the only one suffering from that, am I?" she smiled softly.

"Nope."

Sara smirked. "Well, I'm glad to hear it," she said.

"We're even."

"For now, that is."

"For now." Mark sighed. "I think he's good for you, Sara. He'll take good care of you."

Sara didn't respond. She didn't know whether to confirm or deny that.

"And maybe you could travel somewhere together in the future. Would do you good, both of you."

"And if that happens, I of course, should ask you for recommended places."

"You got it."

Sara could tell he was grinning to this. She smiled. "I think I might do that."

Mark chuckled. "Sleep well, geek-worm."

"You too, Mark," she said.

Sara sat down. She put her feet up and her head back. Picking up the remote she turned on the stereo. A U2 CD started spinning.

He listened to her. She smirked. Grissom always listened to her; she told him things, secret things... He saw her cry; no one else had seen her cry here.

She glanced over at the left corner of the room; a lonely, green plant giving some life to this, otherwise dead, apartment. She must've been giving it good care since it had managed to survive this long. Had it been because she simply cared for living things or because... he had given it to her? No, he had sent it to her. He did not even sign the card; someone else had done that.

Very impersonal.

Her eyes moved over to her computer. There was that book. She had read it a long time ago, but simply had forgotten to put it with the other books. Sara was busy. This time the card had been signed by him with a simple _Merry Christmas_. Sara smiled. She even recognized his handwriting. Grissom had nice handwriting. It wasn't exemplary but you could at least read it.

"_Just how far would Miss Sidle go to please her boss – Gil Grissom_?" Those words popped in her head. Everyone else had been asked something with their past, their fault... and she was attacked with her attraction towards her supervisor. Sara closed her eyes. She went far and beyond to please him in the past. Some he acknowledged, some he didn't. She didn't ask questions.

Sara met others, went out, and had fun. She did not wait for him. Not always anyway...

She had regained her own ground a long time ago. But he went cold on her again. It hurt her, not much, but it hurt.

Sara could go out again. She could find someone. They could have fun. But that would be all - harmless fun. She would not have late night conversations about the history of forensics, or debating her views on a certain novel that she's read, like she could with Grissom. No one else would dare her to cite her source on something personal like a sexual experience in an airplane bathroom. No one else would try to get her mind working furiously, trying to figure out where that quote came from.

He stimulated her intellectually. Sara loved that. No one else had managed to do that to her, and she had the chance of meeting plenty of intellectuals in her lifetime.

And Sara trusted her mind. She trusted its abilities. Her brain had been the only part of her that had never let her down. Her emotions had but her mind did not. She had an endless thirst for knowledge, an endless curiosity, just like him. And he helped her satisfy that thirst... and recently, an emotional one as well, even if more reserved.

She wondered if she had the same effect on him. Secretly, she hoped she did.

He was different however. Maybe she imagined it, but Grissom was changing. He was more forward. The reason was unknown, but she noticed a change.

She breathed out and looked around. "A shower maybe," Sara told herself and stood up.

* * *

A uniformed officer greeted them before an opened door of a room in a five star hotel. Inside the room was the body of man laying on the bed with a small hole in his chest. 

"Graham Nicholson, 34," Brass said, standing next to them.

Sara nodded and ran across the available space with her eyes. Blood spatter on the bed, the back wall and the table next to it; scattered male clothes and bed sheets. "Night of pleasure turned ugly."

"Murderous," Grissom said. "Someone stole his life _and_ his heart."

"Without your heart, you might as well be dead."

Grissom glanced at her. Her sentence had a deeper meaning than just simple biology.


	13. chapter 13

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

The tall blonde with a red necklace leaned back annoyingly in her chair. "So, why am I here?" Bertha asked the two CSIs sitting on the other side of the table.

"Because you're the last person to have been with Graham Nichols," Grissom replied.

"Huh, I guess that could be true. If you mean in the hotel room, yeah, I was the last person, unless he had another hussy after me..."

"So, you two are..."

"A couple... yeah."

"How long have you been together?"

"About two years. It's mostly a physical relationship."

"You're also a nurse?" Sara asked.

"Yes. Too bad Graham wasn't a doctor. We would've mixed better." Bertha smirked.

"You had problems recently?"

"Huh, who doesn't? But, no, we were okay." She seemed to care very little of the situation in the way she talked.

"You don't seem very upset about his murder," Sara noticed.

"As I said, it was physical. Nothing else was really involved."

"Would you mind giving us a sample of your DNA?"

"I didn't kill him," Bertha responded calmly.

"Lucky for you, if you're telling the truth, this will confirm it," Sara said and stood up with a swab in her hand.

Bertha rolled her eyes. "Knock yourself out," she replied and opened her mouth.

"Do you know anyone who might have a desire to kill Graham?" Grissom asked after Sara had finished.

"No. But he _was_ a frequent visitor to the Deeper End before we met. He could've ended up with someone on nasty terms over there."

"The Deeper End?"

"It's a club. A... special club for grownups," Bertha replied with a twinkle in her eye.

"And were you a frequent visitor there as well?" Grissom asked her.

"No. Went only once, _before_ I met him. It was too crowded for me." Bertha crossed her arms and smiled. "You should give it a try sometime though." She looked at both Grissom and Sara. "You might like it," she said and smiled again.

"Alright, thank you." Grissom nodded and glanced over at Sara.

When Bertha left, Sara leaned forward on the table. "The Deeper End, huh?"

"That's the place," Grissom replied absently.

* * *

They were met by a dark atmosphere the moment they entered the club. Dark, violet lights fell like silk onto each wall, piece of furniture or living skin; navy blue sofas against the walls, most of them occupied by couples or threesomes.

"Is it me or did the security guys let us in here way too easily?" Sara asked.

"Maybe they thought we belonged here," Grissom responded.

She chose not to give her response to that. Sara looked ahead at the small group of people dancing very closely to their partners, their movements copying those of a snake. She looked up and noticed a small stage and a silver-painted poll. The legs and hands of a young woman were caressing the metallic surface, her nude body only bearing two silver leaves on her chest and beneath her stomach.

"Unbelievable," Sara said.

"Never let anything surprise you in this town." Grissom smiled and looked over at the stairs to his right that were leading to the second floor of the club. "I'll check up there," he said and pointed to the guests that occupied the floor.

"Okay, I'll try to make my way through this pit," she responded and smiled back.

Reaching the second floor, Grissom tried to recognize the suspect. The dim light, the crowded space and the music helped very little in his quest.

After a long and fruitless search, Grissom approached the railing with hopes of catching a view of the suspect from there.

A familiar song, Wicked Games occupied the club, but a rockier version. The heavy melody gave the lyrics somewhat of a more seductive feel... perfect for the atmosphere here.

He traveled with his gaze over the wave of seekers for physical pleasure. Grissom watched carefully, but he found nothing. He did however, find someone else.

Her brown hair had been completely washed over by the deep purple light; her sweet pale face painted by the faint shadow of the lights and a single but fair layer of blue.

She looked up. He was looking at her... the casual look turned into a deeper stare. She did not see him though. Sara scanned the second floor but she somehow missed him. Grissom could have felt relieved in a way. She would not notice his stare... a slightly different, pleasantly disturbing stare.

He could see her eyes unusually clearly. They were darker, bolder, alluring... It could just have been the light... It _was_ the light, the music, the overall mood of this place, but he cared little of that.

A young woman, dark purple, long hair to her back, tight leader corset, leader boots and torn black skirt walked up next to him. She looked at him, at his face but he did not notice her. She smiled seductively at him, hoping that her presence would turn his head, but it failed.

The stranger's face was focused on something else, too focused for him to acknowledge the presence of anything else. She followed his stare... somehow knowing exactly where to look.

The woman brought her face closer to his. "She's gorgeous..." her husky voice spoke to him.

Grissom quickly glanced at her and then returned to Sara. The woman's words seemed too weak to distract him from the woman on the floor.

The song played again. It was a popular choice tonight. Grissom did not care.

"She is different... not like many women that come here." The woman looked at him. She brought her lips closer to his ear as she spoke. "You have hungry eyes..."

Grissom smirked.

"I know... I serve my customers with that look." She earned another look from him, but once again it was brief.

Grissom gripped the metallic railing. The woman could lick his face in her attempts to seduce him and it wouldn't work.

She chuckled once. "Do you want her?" her voice shifted from husky to a silky version.

Grissom didn't respond. Why should he? It was none of her business. It did not disturb him that he kept looking at Sara this way... It should have, but it didn't. He could not think of a reason right now why.

"I know women with those looks... they are capable of fulfilling every kind of fantasy for their partner."

"You've met many like her?" he finally responded in an absent voice.

The woman smiled. "I speak from experience..."

Grissom perched his lips. She was good at her job, but he remained uninterested. "You know everyone that comes here?"

"It's my job to know them."

"You remember them?"

"Yes..."

Grissom nodded. "I want to ask you about someone."

"You'd be wasting your time."

He glanced at her. "Why is that?"

"I never discuss clients. Privacy is what counts here."

"Not even if it was about a murder investigation."

The woman chuckled briefly. "It's all about privacy..." She could tell that despite his question, this man had allowed the brunette on the floor to absorb his attention. She used this.

"Tell me..." Her hand touched his arm. "What...would..." her voice lowered, "..._you_ like to do to her..."

Grissom held his breath in the most unnoticeable way possible. "Nothing..." he whispered.

She chuckled softly. "I won't tell..."

"We work together," he replied.

"There is nothing stopping you here... no regulations, no restrictions..."

Grissom looked at her. She was beginning to create a feeling of discomfort for him. Her green eyes enhanced by the dark makeup around them.

"I could take her place... but..." she touched the button of his shirt. "It would not feel the same..." Her lips formed a wicked and seductive smile. "We have a room... a private room for..." Her right hand ran up his arm to his shoulder. "Private people."

Grissom glanced at her hand and then back at her. His right lip curled up. "Show it to me," he told her.

The woman kept her smile to this, privately satisfied to have made a good sale. She noticed him glance over at Sara. "No, no... No need. We'll bring her for you..." She chuckled. The woman turned her face and caught another young beauty by the hand. "Sweetness will take you to your room."

The other woman with dark red hair smiled at Grissom, gesturing him to follow her. "This way."

"Thank you," Grissom smiled politely. "Oh, and... maybe you could join us later," he hinted over at the purple-haired woman.

"With pleasure," she responded.

The room had a soft blue color; a big, comfortable bed in the middle, one small table with two champagne glasses and a bottle of champagne, another small table with a black box on it; soft carpet on the floor.

He also noticed one of the walls felt soft, like a mattress. Grissom touched it to make sure.

"Some prefer the wall instead of the bed," Sweetness told him.

Grissom turned to look at her. "Oh," he smiled and looked back at the wall.

"Enjoy your night," she said and left the room, closing the door behind her and with it shutting the music off.

He opened the black box where a few packs of condoms were stored, four silky scarves and some small objects he could not describe but which were no doubt used for whatever intimate activity was to be planned here.

The door opened and he quickly turned around.

"I don't know what it is with this place," Sara entered, looking slightly annoyed. "No one wants to talk!"

Grissom smirked. "That happens." He turned around and slowly closed the black box again. "I think I may have found someone who's willing to tell us about Bertha."

"Who?"

"They should be here shortly. I'll need your help."

"Sure."

Grissom approached her. "Um, it might involve something... unusual from me, but it'll get them talking."

"What do you mean?"

The door opened again and the green-eyed woman from before entered the room.

"Good, we can get started," Grissom said and smiled at Sara who seemed a bit confused.

"Your name?" he asked the woman.

"Huntress," she replied with her hands on her waist.

"Ah." He smirked. "Please, have a seat," he told her, gesturing toward the bed.

Huntress complied and sat down on the comfortable bed.

Grissom turned to Sara with a tamed smile.

"What do you have in mind?" Sara asked him.

Instead of telling her, Grissom took her by the wrists, lifting them up. Gently he pushed her back until her back was against the soft wall.

Sara had no idea of his plans, but she decided to trust him and go along with whatever his intentions were... As strange and uncomfortable as they might appear.

"I..." he started, his voice going down the soft, seductive path; his eyes were on her wrists before traveling over to Huntress. "Want her to watch us..."

Sara's heart shot up and then sank as lowest as it could. He could not have been serious. She looked over at the woman on the bed. Sara perched her lips. "Sure," she replied nevertheless.

Grissom looked up at her. His eyes darkened, his lips allowed the line to stretch them to that tiny distance, giving out a sign of some mysterious wanting. He slowly let go of her wrists, and with his fingers tapped the skin of her bare arms as they traveled over to the sides of her torso. His fingers pressed lightly on her sides until his hands could feel her warmth. They traveled down, sliding along her curves.

Sara fought hard not to swallow the annoying lump in her throat. It hadn't really been his hands which disturbed her. His look, that stare caused her inner stir. Grissom was a damn good actor.

Huntress sighed loudly. "You're so beautiful together."

"Tell me, Huntress..." Grissom started. "Are many couples allowed in here?"

"No... only those that want their privacy and are willing to pay for it."

"How do you know we can afford this," he said without taking his eyes off Sara.

"Don't worry about that... I had a feeling about you two..."

"Really..." Sara breathed out. His hands started moving up again as he came closer to her.

"Yes. There is something between you... it's not just physical..."

"We know," Grissom said and brought his face to the side of Sara's neck.

Sara closed her eyes and moaned. He was only breathing against her neck but from where Huntress was sitting, it gave the illusion that he was doing something else. Sara was playing her role...

"I only had this feeling about one other couple last week."

"Who could that be?" Grissom asked, his face still close to Sara's neck.

"Bertha and Graham... oh, they were so sensual."

Grissom smiled. They were on the right track. He brought his face in front of Sara and saw her open her eyes.

She was glad he stopped. His breath was irritating her skin in a loving manner, causing her to panic.

He pressed her harder against the wall.

She cursed the softness of the wall; it made it more welcoming for her back and for this: him and his closeness. She raised her chin and left her lips parted. She was welcoming _him_ without realizing it.

"Did they enjoy the rough stuff or something more with our taste...?" Grissom asked and brought his hand to her cheek.

"They went further. Bertha was more demanding... even troubling at times," Huntress replied. "I think they must've loved torturing each other." She then stood up.

"No, stay there," Grissom said softly and looked over at her along with Sara. "We like it this way."

"Alone," Sara added.

Huntress smiled. "I sense that my presence is more of a distraction than an addition to your pleasure." She walked over to the door. "The contents of the black box will be perfect for you," she said and quietly slipped out of the room.

Now they were alone. His hand slid painfully slowly from her check to the base of her neck. The distraction had disappeared but their focus on one another did not. This was work...

Sara finally swallowed that lump. They were overly convincing here, even to themselves.

Her eyes fell somewhere else. This was too warm for them; unpleasantly warm. His eyes traced the line of her neck and then landed on the floor, away from her.

"At least we know they were here together..." Sara said softly, not looking at him.

"Yeah," Grissom responded with a whisper. He took a few steps back, away from Sara. "We do."

* * *

This might make them a little OOC for some but it was interesting to write, so that can be forgiven:) 


	14. chapter 14

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

"What now?" Bertha sounded annoyed.

"We found these in your apartment," Sara said, showing her photographs of the surgical instruments.

"I collect," Bertha replied.

"Do you also happen to collect human hearts?" Grissom asked.

Bertha sighed, looking around.

"The blood on them matches your ex-boyfriend's," Sara told her.

"We also found out that you were at Deeper End with Graham, and a frequent visitor at that," Grissom continued.

"So, I lied. Big deal."

"You know, all the evidence is already speaking against you. You can tell us or let it all speak out in court."

Bertha shook her head and leaned forward. "It started out innocently. Just sex, no feelings, no strings attached."

"But it turned into more," Sara said.

Bertha nodded. Her fingers started making invisible circles on the table's surface. "He stole my heart…" she started, almost in a trance, eyes on the table. "And broke it. Someone should have just killed me 'cause that was one…. big, horrible… pain. So…" she looked up at them. "I stole his heart." Her hand formed a fist on the table. "And crushed it." She then leaned back, undisturbed by her confession.

"_The heart will break, but broken live on_," Grissom said, watching her being taken away.

"And she picked the wrong way to mend it," Sara replied.

* * *

The hot drops of the water hit her face hard but she did not protest; in fact, it felt soothing. As her hands ran across the flattened hairs on her head, she gazed around, thoughts from earlier beginning to creep up. The hot drops sliding down along the curves of her nose and then hitting the floor quick and hard; some managed to remain on her skin and slide down to the opened entrance of her lips. Sara licked the drops and sighed.

She took a step back and leaned against the wet tiles of the wall, each drop sipping into her skin. She stared in front of her, not looking at any object present but rather a not so distant ghostly memory. Her fingers touched the tiles scarcely to make certain it felt warm enough for the rest of her palms to follow.

He allowed the last fall of water to wash over the remains of the shampoo before he opened his eyes again.

It had been way too misty for his eyes to recognize solid objects.

The rising steam somehow triggered something inside him, causing his movements to come to a stop. His eyes moved around the available space until they could find nothing to satisfy them. Turning slightly to his right, Grissom placed his hands against the tiled wall, facing it. He closed his eyes and let out a slow sigh….

Sara's arms began sliding up along the cooling wall, her hands forming into weak fists. Her wrists felt the soft pressure applied by his fingers. Her arms went further up; her palms receiving the soft but brief tickling sensation of his index finger. Her hands were soon on the same level as her head. It was there that she stopped and it was there that her lips parted.

He opened his eyes and was met by the white ceramic. But his eyes did not see the white material…. They saw the whites of her eyes, the brown circles floating in the middle, looking back at him. She was confused; Sara was so confused at the beginning; her eyes begging for an answer. But then, they adjusted. She went along with it. Grissom was not sure if she would have, but she did not let him down, not even like this. He lifted his face and let a soft breath pass through his lips.

Did she feel it then?

She could have stopped him, voicing her discomfort. Sara closed her eyes. She did not object to this "strategy". He was so confident…. Incredibly convincing; the blue pools painted over by a darker, more alarming presence with her as its target. But it had not been a presence she had wished to escape from.

A soft moan was released. She had washed her body a million times, but the skin on her neck could still feel it. That incredibly tender and yet carnivorous breath hitting the flesh like a wave of salty water crushing against the shore. What if there was no one else in that room? What if she hadn't diverted her eyes from him but stared back with the same strange intensity as the blues in front of her did?

What if….

His left hand slid down slowly against the wall, as if caressing a female arm. His right hand remained in its place; he did not wish to lose balance. The right hand then rotated as his fingers began retracing the earlier path upwards. His eyes followed those fingers, focused on them as if they were leaving pale marks on her skin… where his touch had been. They suddenly turned from that straight line, going towards the middle… course was changed once more. They started moving down….

Sara's eyes shot open. She let out a louder moan, blinking several times. His blue eyes disappeared; her hands and her body felt free.

Sara lowered her hands and pushed herself from the wall. It had not been the right place. Intimate - yes; appropriate – no.

Grissom's hand stopped. He looked up again and this time leaned his forehead against the wet tiles. He closed his eyes and sighed. The mist disappeared; the warmth of her body was still here…. Not even a million showers or baths could wash it away; but it was such a pleasurable warmth; the scent of her neck, not disguised by an artificial fragrance. He was becoming addicted to that scent.

He did want her there. But he wanted her at the wrong place.

His hands pushed him away from the wall.


	15. chapter 15

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

Grissom stood in front of the mirror troubling himself with the bowtie for the millionth time. This had become a hassle for him each and every time he was forced to dress up for a formal evening. Grissom was grateful those nights were rare.

He had received an invitation from retired colleague from the lab for a small, private party. Grissom was not too thrilled when he found out that it would be a formal party as the host had recently won the lottery, but he felt that it might appear rude from his side if he did not attend.

The damn tie broke the last string of patience he had. Ripping it away, Grissom shoved it in the pocket of his jacket. He could not be bothered any longer and he was running late anyway.

* * *

Grissom looked down at the card in his hand as he was waiting for the elevator to take him to the VIP floor where the party was taking place. He then heard a familiar voice or two coming from the end of the corridor. Turning his head, he was soon taken by a pleasant surprise.

In a soft pink vintage gown, hair up in a bun, a young woman had asked a hotel employee for the location of the party. When she was given directions, she thanked them quietly with a polite smile and began heading toward the elevator where Grissom had been standing.

Abruptly she paused when she recognized him. Chuckling quietly, she resumed her walk towards Grissom.

The man before the elevator watched her with astonishment. His face did not show his feeling of the moment, apart from his eyes that were hurrying to absorb this different image of Sara. He liked what he saw. The color of the gown matched the softness of her face and her heart perfectly.

"So, you got an invitation after all," she told him, gripping the small pink purse with her left hand.

He smiled. "So did you."

Sara nodded once and stopped next to him, facing the elevator. They both stood there quietly for a while.

"I've never really seen in you in an evening dress before. It's a surprise."

Sara chuckled. "Gee, thanks, Grissom."

He leaned his head closer to her, whilst his eyes were fixed on the elevator doors. "That was meant as a compliment," he said and pulled away.

Sara glanced at him and smiled shyly.

The doors opened.

"After you," he offered her.

"Thank you," Sara responded and walked inside, thus giving Grissom the chance to check out the back of her dress, and perhaps a little lower as well.

The doors closed.

There was silence again as the elevator started moving. The mirror walls gave him the opportunity to look at Sara's reflection without having to turn his face towards her.

She smiled. "You keep looking this way."

"There isn't anything else to look at." He shrugged. "_I'm_ certainly not an interesting specimen."

"I don't know about that," Sara told her self and chuckled.

"It's a nice dress," he said.

"It's still a shocker seeing me in one, huh?"

"Well, it is a very pleasant one." He looked at her and smiled softly.

"Thanks, Griss," she replied. Sara was pleased. He could be sweet when he wanted. She looked back at him. "Where's your tie?"

"Oh, uh…" he touched his collar. "I was in a hurry and didn't have the time to put it," he lied.

She watched him carefully with amusement. "You can't tie your bowtie, can you." She chuckled.

Grissom sighed and looked away. "I was in a rush."

"It's not gonna kill you if you admit it."

"If it were true, I would have," he replied.

"Where is it now?"

"In my right pocket."

"Oh." She looked back at the doors. "You do have fifteen more seconds 'till those doors open if you want to give it another try."

"You make it sound like it's a contest."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help you out."

"It's too late now anyway," he said and the doors opened.

Stepping out on the floor, Sara quickly pulled him away from the entrance.

"What are you doing?" Grissom asked her.

"Give me the tie," she said.

"What?"

"The tie please."

"Why?"

Sara gave him a knowing look, reminding him of the absurdity of his question.

He sighed and took out the black accessory before handing it to her. She gently slid it across his neck and began tying the ends, giving him a chance to watch her face and even her hands. He noticed she didn't have much make up, in fact, it was barely evident. The pale pink lipstick on her lips was more visible but even that mixed perfectly with the rest of her appearance, not hiding away the natural beauty about her.

When she was finished, she looked up at him with a warm and satisfied smile.

"How come women are always more successful with bowties?" he said, brushing his fingers against the perfectly made bowtie.

"Ah, I think we have more patience."

Grissom chuckled. "I look okay now?"

"I think you looked better without the tie."

He sighed. "Thank you." Grissom turned around and placed his hand on her lower back. "Come on, let's try to enjoy the evening."

"Let's hope we succeed." Sara smiled and walked into the main room where some of the guests, all in evening wear, had gathered.

* * *

It did not pass long before both of them realized something: the party turned out to be more boring than either of them had anticipated. It appeared more like a dinner party to them; a painfully dull dinner party.

"How are you holding up?" Grissom asked her.

"As well as I can."

"_The dying process begins the minute we are born, but it accelerates during dinner parties_."

"It most definitely does. I'm beginning to write my epitaph already," Sara replied, looking around.

Grissom chuckled to this.

"I thought this was supposed to celebrate a success, not put everyone to sleep…. And adults at that."

"Poor organizing," Grissom responded.

Charlie, the host of the evening, finally spotted the CSIs and with a sincere smile approached them. "I'm sorry I couldn't greet you earlier. This is a charity party at the same time and I was, uh, chatting up the potential donors."

"Dirty job, but someone's got to do it," Grissom said and smiled.

"You've no idea. It's amazing what kinds of people get rich these days. Enjoying the party?" Charlie asked them.

"To be honest, Charlie…. It's boring," Sara said.

"I know….. you're not the first one to mention that. I paid the wrong person to organize it. But the real music should start soon, so, hopefully that'll live things up."

"Let's hope so," Grissom said with a soft smile.

"I'm glad you came. And Sara, you look beautiful," Charlie told her.

"Thank you."

"If you'll excuse me, I have to take care of the other…. Guests."

"Please," Sara smiled. "You think he was telling the truth about the music?" Sara then asked Grissom after Charlie left.

"One can only hope."

A moment later, the promise was kept as the music decent for everyone's ear began to play. "What do you know? It came true," Grissom said and smirked. He leaned in closer to her. "I need to visit the men's room. I'll be right back," he whispered to her.

"Okay," Sara responded.

* * *

"You were gone for a while," Sara said jokingly after Grissom came back.

"There was a line," Grissom replied. "The lab called, I have to go back."

"Oh, what happened?" She became worried.

"Nothing serious, they just need me to check something."

"Well, can I help?"

"No, stay here and enjoy yourself," he said and touched her elbow before rushing out.

"Well…" Sara sighed. "Great…." She mumbled and looked across the room.

Sitting down on one of the tables, Sara leaned her chin on her hand, absently watching the events before her.

A moment later, a young man, not older that eighteen sat next to her. "Hi," he said.

Sara looked over at him. "Hi," she replied and smiled.

"Boring party, huh?" He smiled back at her, his voice showing obvious nervousness.

Sara chuckled briefly. Nothing like a nervous teenager trying to flirt with a lady. "Yeah, it is."

"I didn't wanna come here either, but my parents threatened to exclude me from the Bahamas trip if I didn't go."

"Everyone loves blackmailing parents," Sara said and shrugged.

"You're lucky you don't have mine. So… I see your date left."

Sara opened her mouth to deny Grissom's companionship described in that way, but she suddenly figured that it would work in her favor if she went along with the boy's assumptions. "Yeah, work."

"Bummer."

Sara chuckled. "Bummer indeed." She had to admit she found the boy's nervousness all too adorable.

"I don't mean for this to sound weird but he looks kinda old for you," he said quietly.

Sara smirked. "Looks can fool," she replied.

"Oh. So you want to dance?" he asked.

"No, but thank you for asking," she responded politely.

"I'm really not that bad," he tried to convince her.

Sara chuckled again, looking down at her purse. "What's your name?" she asked and looked over to him.

"Bobby," he responded and smiled.

"And how old are you?"

"E-eighteen."

"Okay, Bobby, let me make this easier for you. I already have a boyfriend, I'm a little old for you and…" she leaned in closer to him to whisper. "I don't think your girlfriend that I saw you with earlier would like it if she saw you flirting with me," Sara told him and leaned back.

As if on cue, a young girl in a green evening dress suddenly appeared behind him. "Hey, I was looking all over for you," she said to Bobby.

"Oh, well…" he turned to Sara, obviously struggling to know her name.

"Sara," she relied and looked up at Bobby's girlfriend who had a suspicious look on her face, combined with some jealousy. "We were just talking. He was interested in a possible career in forensics," she told her.

"Forensics?" The girl looked back at Bobby. "You?"

Bobby nodded. "A good advice is better than none," he replied and stood up. "Thanks for the… info, Sara."

"You're welcome, Bobby," Sara said and smiled at the pair. She shook her head as the couple left the table, even noticing yet another suspicious glance from the girl. She could not help but wonder what Grissom would have thought of this situation.

Thirty minutes later, her cell phone rang. "Sidle," she replied.

"I need you to come to this location," Grissom's voice was heard.

Taking in the information, she nodded. "DB?" she then asked.

"Something else. You better get here as soon as you can."

"Okay, I'll just need to stop by my apartment to change and…"

"There's no time. You need to come now!" he told her.

"But I don't have a kit."

"I have one. Hurry, alright?"

"Okay, I'm on my way." Sara felt curious and also relived that she was given an excuse to leave even if it was work-related. After excusing herself to Charlie, she rushed to her car.

* * *

It took her an hour to arrive at the address Grissom had given her.

As it happened, his car was parked next to a few trees, with the edge of the cliff visible. He saw standing there with his back to her, observing something in front of him with a flash light. Sara also noticed two field kits next to him. "What's up?" She asked as she was approaching him.

"Oh, you made it. Good," Grissom said when he noticed her.

Sara came up to him, wondering what he had been looking at. But when she looked down at the ground before them, there was nothing but grass and dirt. "What was the emergency?"

"Nothing," he replied.

"Nothing…" She repeated, sounding unimpressed.

"Yeah." He pointed at the kits. "Could you set those down please?" he asked her.

She raised an eyebrow at him, perplexed by his request. "O-kay…" Sara complied while Grissom walked over to his car, getting something out from the back seat. "Everything okay at the lab?"

"Everything was fine," he replied. Grissom returned with a rucksack in his other hand. When he saw her standing still, he tilted his head. "Have a seat."

Sara glanced at the kits and then back at him. "Is there a purpose to this?"

"Yes," he answered simply.

Sara shrugged and lifting up her dress a few inches as she circled the kit and sat down on it.

Grissom sat down on the other kit and positioned the rucksack in front of him. He took out a thermos and handed it to Sara.

Sara felt skeptical of this as she held the thermos. "This is all awfully familiar," she said.

Grissom only smiled in response as he took out two cups.

Sara opened the thermos and a pleasant smell overwhelmed her. She had to smile. "Mm… tea?"

"They were short of coffee," he said and brought one of the cups closer to her so she could pour some tea in it.

She took her cup and gave the thermos back to him. Wrapping both her hands around it, she shivered slightly, thanking that the heat could at least warm her palms.

Grissom noticed this. He pulled out a blanket and carefully placed it over her shoulders. He received another look and a grateful smile; the crème color of the blanket adding a sweeter image to her.

"So, what's all this for then?"

"Ah, I figured we'd make an alternative evening."

Sara looked at their surroundings. "Here, alone, at night."

"The view is nice," he said, nodding towards the wide view of the city far away from them.

The various lights of the city made it seem like Christmas every night from afar. "What do you know…. It is pretty."

"That, and I'm not so fond of crowded places."

"Ah, now _that_ I've noticed a long time ago," she said and grinned. Sara looked at her tea.

"All this and the only thing that is missing is a decomposing pig."

"I have something for that," he said and pulled out a small box from the rucksack. Grissom opened it and showed the contents to Sara.

"Oh, what's this??" she wondered at the small pig-shaped objects.

"Chocolate pigs."

"Wow…" she chuckled. "May I?" Sara asked.

"Please."

"I must say," she took a pig. "I've never had a chocolate piglet before."

"First time for everything."

"You got that right." Sara took a bite. "Mm…" she had to make a sound as the sweet desert began melting inside her mouth. "This is good!"

Grissom smiled and took one himself. "They're not bad."

"Can I have…." She started when he handed her the box again. Sara took another pig and let out a satisfactory moan. "D-delicious."

"Yes." He saw her attempts to somehow wipe the remains of chocolate from her fingers being useless, so he took out a pair or paper napkins and handed one to her.

"Thank you." She took the napkin.

Sara did not know what to make of this moment, or his gesture. "You should've at least given me a chance to change."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm still in this tuxedo."

Sara grinned. "Oh, it does!"

Silence again. But Grissom did not complain. He could enjoy their silence together as much as he could enjoy their interesting conversations. A unique experience for both.

Strange.

Sara looked up at the night sky. Stars twinkling, small clouds floating by…. Everything done slowly, with no rushing.

"_Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree," _She said.

Grissom felt surprised hearing words like these. His lip curled up. "Antoine de Saint-Exupéry," he guessed the source.

"Mm." She took a sip from her tea. "There's a lot of truth to it, don't you think?" she asked softly.

He watched her… each time he thought he had figured something out about her, Sara surprised him. "Incredibly true."

A small star next to the tree looked down at the two lonely people that were slowly finding each other. The moon smiled, the clouds grinned. It had been a delightful site.


	16. chapter 16

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

Going through the various pieces of clothing which they had gathered earlier from a suspects house, Sara picked up a red blouse for a closer examination.

At the other side of the table, Grissom picked up a black t-shirt.

"Thank you for the chocolate pigs and tea," she said and flipped the blouse.

Grissom glanced at her. "You're welcome. You had a nice evening?"

"Yeah, I did. And if I didn't know better, I could've sworn that evening could be described as a…" she deliberately stopped there, wanting Grissom to finish that sentence for her.

"A what?" With the magnifying glass in his hand, Grissom looked at her.

It did not work. "A date," she responded, looking back at him.

Grissom kept her gaze for a second there before he snorted and shook his head, leaving her with a bewildered stare.

"Didn't think it could be that amusing," she said and smirked. "You don't agree?"

Leaning on the table, he said: "Sara, that wasn't a date. A date would imply an invitation from my part along the lines of: _Care to have dinner with me_; which in this case did not happen."

"I see… so, what would you call our evening then?" Sara asked him.

"A night of tea between friends," he replied and returned to his work.

"Hmm… and just… how long did it take you to prepare that night of tea between friends?" she asked, realizing that it had sounded more like a discussion between an already established couple of a previous date.

"Well… I met Catherine in the lab, and she gave me this box of chocolate pigs she had bought for Lindsay earlier. She had two of them so she asked me if I wanted the other one. So, then I asked myself: What am I going to do with a box of chocolate pigs? I thought of you, and how you must've been barely surviving at Charlie's party. I couldn't bring the box back there of course, so I took some blankets, the tea… called you and …" he shrugged. "There you go."

One eyebrow went up as she heard his reply. "And you happened to drive to a secluded location, with a gorgeous view of the city… half an hour's drive from here, to share the box of chocolate pigs."

"Yeah," Grissom nodded and straightened the sleeve of a yellow sweater he had taken.

Sara narrowed her eyes and shook her head. She leaned closer to her blouse to expect it. "That's one hell of an excuse, Griss…." She replied quietly.

Grissom only glanced at her. He knew she didn't believe his reluctance to describe their mutual evening as a date.

"Hey, Sara," Nick smiled at his colleague when he met her in the parking lot.

"Hey." Sara chuckled and took out her keys.

"Congratulations on the case."

"Thanks."

"I thought it would've taken you longer to solve it… well, we pretty much believed it was the daughter who killed her stepfather."

"No, it was her mother."

Nick smirked. "Still, great work. You and Grissom are usually a good team."

"Uh… thanks, I guess."

Nick smiled. Her awkward reaction was the kind he expected. "So, how was Charlie's party?"

"Oh, um… well, it was okay, but it could've been better organized."

"Good thing I didn't go then," he responded.

Sara unlocked the door of her car. In a way she felt relieved no one else from nightshift had showed up. "Why didn't you come anyway? I know Charlie invited you."

"Y-eah, but to be honest… it sounded boring in the first place."

"And that's the excuse you gave him for not going?"

"No… I told him I had to work."

"Smooth," she said and shook her head.

"I know," he chuckled at her reaction. "I heard you wore a nice evening dress though."

Damn. News does travel fast after all. "Yeah. It was a formal party anyway."

"Now _that_ I'm sad I missed." He pointed at her.

"Trust me, Nick, you didn't miss anything. I look better like this than I do in a dress!"

"Still…" he shrugged. "Get some sleep, okay?"

"You can count on that. Bye," Sara said and entered her car.

When the cell phone rang, Grissom smiled at the recognition of the caller's number. "Hello, Jack."

"Evening, Gil. Or morning in your case," Jack said and chuckled.

"Looks like it."

"I'm going to ask right away. What are you doing this weekend?"

"Work."

"Still on a case?"

"Well, no but –"

"Great. Stop by the ranch, huh?"

"I don't know –"

"Hey, you're not backing out again. Come on. It's been five years since you've last been here. _Five_! Even the horses have started to miss you," Jack joked.

Grissom smirked. "Well, if the horses miss me then…."

"Wonderful! Oh, and before I forget. We invited Sara to come as well."

Grissom's eyebrow shot up. "Sara?"

"Yeah, she said she had some time this weekend so we figured why not? Besides, you already know where we are, and she could use your help."

"Aha… How did you get her number?" Grissom asked, as he certainly hadn't given it to Jack or Cynthia.

"Gil, haven't you learned by now how sneaky I can be?"

Grissom could tell there was a grin there. "How naïve of me. Alright, Jack. I'll…" he paused and sighed. "_We'll_ come on Friday at around 11. That okay?"

"Sounds perfect. Have a safe trip, Gil. Both of you," Jack said.

Grissom smiled. "Thanks, Jack. See you then," he replied and closed the connection.

Jack had been right, perhaps a weekend would be alright. He always enjoyed his stay on the Clearcanes' ranch. It would feel better to return again…. Even if that happened to be with Sara.

The sun was in full shine by the time they reached the ranch. The main house, from what Sara could tell when she stepped away from the car, seemed well-built. Two stories, modest, mainly made of wood. She smiled. "Sweet."

Grissom was a little hesitant to this. He was more likely to come by himself, but having Jack mention Sara's presence as well made it somewhat less than easy. He had to be reminded by his friend that five years had passes since his last visit here. Grissom took out both bags from the car and handed the black one to Sara.

"When you said morning, you _meant_ morning. Good to see your punctuality hasn't faltered!" Cynthia greeted the arrivals as she opened the door of the house.

"Nice to see you again, Cynthia," Grissom smiled.

"For a moment there we were worried Gil wouldn't bring you here," Cynthia laughed and gave Sara a brief but warm hug.

Sara chuckled. "Well, I've been told Jack could be very persuasive," she replied and glanced at Grissom, indicating the source of her discovery.

"Something he's very proud of!" Cynthia nodded and grinned. She noticed their bags. "Is that all?" she asked with surprise in her voice. The bags they carried appeared quite small.

"Um, yeah…. It's not enough?" Sara looked down at her bag

"Unless you're carrying the baggage of a squirrel, I'd say 'no, it's not'."

"Actually, it was my suggestion that she should pack light," Grissom said.

"You didn't tell her about the horses?" Cynthia asked.

"Horses?" Sara's face beamed.

"Yes! Three of them! Do you like horses?"

"Are you kidding? I love them!"

"That's a relief," Cynthia giggled. "Come. Let's go inside."

The interior of the house appeared just as beautiful as the exterior - simple and yet elegant. This told Sara that the Clearcanes had definitely taste when it came to decorating, surprisingly enough.

"Where's Jack?" Grissom asked as he and Sara placed their bags next to the wall in the main hallway.

"He went out to get a few more things for dinner," Cynthia replied and took their coats. "Gil tells us you went to your brother's wedding, Sara."

Sara looked at Grissom. "Didn't know you were that close," she whispered to him. "Yeah, a while ago," she told Cynthia.

"You're meeting family members already, huh?" Cynthia seemed pleased by this.

"It was all by chance," Grissom responded.

"Have you meet Gil's mom?" she asked Sara.

"No, actually –"

At that moment someone hurried down the stairs. A young woman with braided brown hair ran over to the table next to the stairs where a small bag had been placed. She took the bag and hurried up the stairs again.

"Wait… was that, Roberta?" Grissom asked, not entirely certain of the person.

"That's her." Cynthia smiled.

"But if she's here then –"

They heard footsteps again and saw the young woman again. This time however, she was accompanied by an elderly lady, helping her reach the floor without trouble.

Grissom's eyebrows shot up. "Mom?" he spoke and hurried towards them.

The older woman grinned from ear to ear when she noticed him. She embraced him tightly in her long blue dress.

"That's Grissom's mother?" Sara asked as she watched the small reunion.

"Yes. She had a small accident some weeks ago with her leg. So, we invited her to spend some time here. Rest," Cynthia said.

"That's quite nice of you," Sara smiled.

"Well, she and Gil are both good friends of ours. Vera has been a big help to us in the past. She even babysat Maeve in the past for us a couple of times."

"Maeve?"

"Our daughter. You'll like Vera. She's a sweet person," Cynthia said and both she and Sara approached the older woman.

Vera's face changed little when she saw Sara. She signed her reaction to Grissom who smiled softly to it.

"What?" Sara was curious.

"She said you are prettier in person," Grissom said that with slight embarrassment.

"Thank you," Sara nodded, feeling flattered. She was surprised seeing the brown eyes on Vera's face; her nose and lips identical to Grissom's. Her gray hair was held tightly together in a single braid; the wrinkles on her face showed a woman who had smiled and laughed a great deal in her life.

"I'm Roberta, Vera's aid," the brown-haired woman introduced herself to Sara.

"Nice to meet you."

"You're leaving today?" Grissom asked his mother in signs.

"It's the gallery. Although Lou is doing a great job with it with my absence, if I don't stop by to supervise, the whole place would most likely collapse!" Vera responded.

"I've overstayed here anyway, Cynthia," Roberta translated for Vera.

"That's not true and you know it!"

Vera chuckled. "My dear, I wish you were right. Okay, we'll have some breakfast and then we'll head off."

"It's ready, Vera," Cynthia replied.

Vera smiled. She then hooked her arm around Sara's while supporting her healing leg with the wooden cane she held in her right hand.

Sara smiled back and glanced over at Grissom who was surprised as much as she was. Usually Vera would lean on Roberta or Grissom, but this had been the first time she had taken another's hand.

Author's Note: Again, thank you for your reviews! They're much appreciated.


	17. chapter 17

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

The last bag was brought in the car by Roberta, as Vera had showed her to be careful due to some fragile objects in it.

Sara had been seated next to Vera who insisted to it, and the older woman had only asked her a couple of questions, all having to do with work. She revealed to Sara that the main reason why Roberta had been picked as her aid was that she was the only one that could translate Vera's jokes the best way.

When breakfast was done, Very had requested a few minutes alone with Sara, and to Grissom's confusion asked for Roberta to remain instead of him. He felt suspicious but complied to his mother's wish nevertheless. She said nothing of her private and short conversation with Sara to Grissom.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Vera signed and turned to Roberta asking something of her. Roberta nodded and took out a small digital camera out of her bag. Vera took it. "Could you two move closer together please?" she asked Grissom and Sara through Roberta.

"Why?" Grissom asked.

"Well… I have space for two more pictures here so why not?"

Grissom sighed. He moved to his right where Sara was.

"Okay… Could you put your arm over her shoulders, Gil?" Vera asked.

Grissom raised an eyebrow.

Vera sighed. She knew he wouldn't comply. "Please, don't make me come all the way there with my leg!" she made an excuse.

"Very well…" Grissom mumbled and quickly put his arm over Sara's shoulder.

"Nice, and Sara dear, could you please put your arm on Grissom's waist?"

"Uh…" she glanced at her boss. Nervously she did as she was asked. Grissom's grip on her shoulder had been so faint that she barely felt his hand. But the warmth and weight of his arm on her back was not something to be easily dismissed.

"A little smile please? Thank you…And now…" Vera set the focus and pressed the button.

The moment the picture was taken, Grissom and Sara moved casually away from each other.

Grissom walked up to the car. He kissed Vera's cheek. "Have a safe trip and call me when you get back."

"Gil, you know I never do that," Vera joked and chuckled before getting in the car.

"She's a lovely person," Sara told him.

"Thank you."

"She is different than you though."

Grissom smirked. "I'll take that as a good thing."

"It is." Sara turned to him. "She smiles more," she said and smiled at him.

"Sara? Would you like to see the horses?" Cynthia called her.

"I'd love to," Sara responded and glanced at Grissom before she left him on porch alone.

His lips stretched for a smile but it made it more difficult for him as he sighed heavily.

* * *

Sara walked past through the glass doors and stepped out on the back porch. Used to the friendly warmth of the interior, she was icily met by the cold autumn wind. The cold caused her to stutter and immediately put the scarf around her neck. Buttoning up her coat, she then crossed her arms and pressed them strongly against her chest. She exhaled and watched as the hot breath from her mouth was slowly made invisible but it's colder cousin.

The strong light from the lamp above the doors made it possible for her to see the two wooden benches further out. She slowly walked over to them and touched the sitting surface of the right one, making sure it hadn't been dusty. She smiled tamely and sat down. The wood was cold but that was barely registered by her mind as the numerous fallen leaves scattered across the ground with their rich and pale colors caught her eye. She thought of them as pretty. This ranch was close to nature, away from the chaotic city lights, the madness of "civilization". She held her breath and realized something.

It was quiet here. Not even the wind dared to disturb this. She let out that breath. A bird was brave enough to fly somewhere to some trees. Sara heard that at least. Her left lip curled up; she sunk deeper on the wooden bench, toes of her feet touching each other, her mouth nearly covered by the colorful scarf. "Wow…" she whispered and chuckled softly. Sara could make out the shape of the trees, the two mountains and she could see the moon watching all this behind the night clouds.

The grainy ground gave out the approach of another human being out here. Her eyes looked up and saw him, with his hands in his pockets, the collar of his jacket straighten, and behind that small opening she noticed of what looked like a scarf. Funny, she had never seen him wearing one like that before

"Am I interrupting?" he asked her politely.

"Uh," Sara quickly sat up again and rubbed her hands. "No… it was getting a bit lonely here," she responded and smiled at him.

Grissom smiled back at her. He sat down next to Sara. "I didn't see you leave," he told her.

"Then how did you know I would be here?"

"I didn't," he responded.

"Ah," she smiled into her scarf. "Dinner was great."

"Cynthia's a great cook," he said.

"Couldn't agree more." Sara nodded. "You didn't tell me they had horses."

"I didn't know you liked horses."

Sara smiled briefly. "I love animals, Griss."

Grissom glanced at her. "So, you saw the horses then?"

"Yeah. Sammy, his sister Claire and the soon mother-to-be Peperutka, who I was told had the honor of being named by you," she looked at him with a curled lip.

"They insisted."

"Really…."

"Yeah."

"So, you're her godfather, huh?"

"Something like that."

"How intriguing."

"Yeah, it doesn't happen every day that one gets to be a godfather to a horse."

"It is indeed an honor."

"Most definitely."

"Jack loves dancing," Sara said and chuckled.

"Yes, he does. He said once that if he didn't have such love for insects, he would've probably been a dancer."

"Well, he is pretty good at it."

Grissom shrugged and slowly shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"They're really happy together."

"They are." Grissom swallowed.

"Two weeks…" she said. It had been the amount of time that Jack and Cynthia knew one another before deciding to get married.

"I guess, they saw their chance and just grabbed it."

"They didn't wait too long."

"No." Grissom could recognize the meaning of her sentence.

"Mm…."

"When do you think we'll get that chance?" Grissom asked, looking at the leaves on the ground.

Sara looked at him. She saw his face slowly turn to hers, his blue eyes sparkling sadly at her. "I don't think it's up to me to answer that," she replied softly and stood up. "I think… it's getting cold out here…"

"Uh, you are right," Grissom stood up and followed Sara back in the house.

* * *

Cynthia opened the door to Sara's room. "This would be your room," she told her and stepped inside along with Sara.

Large bed to the left, four bookshelves and a closet on the right, lime-colored carpet. Sara noticed the curtains next. "Butterflies," she said and smiled. The faint images of the insects spread across the transparent white curtain.

"We found out that when our friends come here they all usually prefer an insect that isn't intimating."

"The butterfly seems to be perfect choice."

"Yes, it is." Cynthia walked over to one of the drawers and opened them. "You have towels here in case you would like to take a shower and…" she then turned to Sara. "You already know where the bathroom is."

"Down the hall, yeah."

"Is the room okay?" Cynthia asked her.

"It's perfect. Thank you."

Cynthia smiled and walked over to the door. "Oh, also, we've been having some trouble with the lights recently between midnight and 4 AM, so, don't be surprised if want to go to the toilet or downstairs to get a bite to eat or something and they're not working properly. It'll get fixed on Tuesday but in the meantime…"

"It's fine."

"Okay, well, pleasant dreams."

"Thanks," Sara smiled.

When the door was closed, Sara turned around and put her bag on the bed. She had to be honest to herself that she did not expect Grissom's mother to be so outgoing and friendly. Having Grissom as a quieter person, she had expected for the woman who raised him to share that characteristic. Instead, Vera was a pleasant, lively creature, even sharing a few jokes, where Sara understood why Roberta had been chosen by Vera; her translation had been excellent, even if Sara barely knew anything about sign language.

Sara stared at the white shirt in her hands. Grissom used to be like that… at least, back in San Francisco. She sighed and took out her pajamas.

* * *

His eyes had been closed for a long time. A faint caress of someone's hand against his cheek opened them slowly again. Despite the absence of light, he could tell to whom those dark eyes belonged. They were watching him closely, from that right side. He heard her chuckle softly. "Can't sleep?" she asked him in a loving whisper.

"No," he whispered back at her and sighed.

"You're not tired?" Her voice surfaced.

"I thought I would be after everything that happened today but no."

"Aw…" she exhaled and touched his cheek. "Insomnia is a killer."

Grissom smiled and moved his face deeper into her palm. "Mm…"

"Enjoying that?" she asked him.

"Yeah, it's soft…"

He could have sworn she was smiling to this. Grissom knew what confessions like this meant to her. Those touches were delicate, smooth, something that he was in need of now.

"I could've helped you defeat many of these sleepless nights if you only let me earlier."

Grissom touched that hand with his. "Call me a coward."

She chuckled. "Don't worry." The whisper returned. "I already have."

He smirked and moved his fingers alongside her bare arm. "You know, there are many ways to make a person tired enough to fall asleep in the end."

"But only a few are really effective."

"Yes."

Her other hand touched his chest. It was a cold touch, probably because it had been cold outside. "We could try, but I think it might wake up the others…"

"Not if we're quiet," he dared her and without any effort found her lips with his.

The kiss was immediately deep; neither seemed to possess the patience to begin with something more innocent.

"You know that this might take the entire night, don't you?" Sara managed to speak after tearing her lips away from his for only a few seconds.

"I have no objections there," Grissom responded and brought her body closer to his. She was so warm… close to becoming even hotter. He heard her moan quietly and he smiled to that. Those lips slid down to her neck.

Her right leg wrapped itself around his torso, crushing the last inch of free space between them. The heath between their bodies was slowly approaching dangerous levels. It even forced his body to react so strongly to her presence that a part down low was reaching a wetter level.

He was about to moan to this arrival of pleasure when something sharp poked him in the back. Grissom did not know what that had been, but it was unexpected and disturbing enough to open his eyes and cause him to sit up on the bed.

"Oh, shit!" She quickly jumped out of the bed. "Grissom?" she sounded confused.

"Y-eah…. Sara??" He could not see her but only hear her voice.

"I'm so sorry… I thought…. I… crap. Uh, I thought this was my room." Embarrassment crept up in her voice.

"You laid down here?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry. I had to get to the toilet and the lights are out and…"

Grissom sighed. "It's fine, Sara, don't worry about it."

There was silence. "I'm sorry I woke you," she sounded apologetic.

Sara confirmed the appearance of yet another dream earlier… a more exploring dream, and one of many. "It's fine."

"Good night, Grissom."

"Night, Sara." Her footsteps were becoming quieter and quieter as she opened the door and as silently as she managed, close it behind her.

His head fell. She sounded embarrassed, guilty by her accidental intrusion; if she could tell by his voice, so was he. His dream had not been innocent, and he felt all too relieved that she could not witness the reaction on his face.

Slowly he lay down again, staring at the ceiling. What if the accidental kick of her elbow hadn't awoken him? What if, unintentionally he had her tonight in his bed in his dream and in reality? He turned to the side. Grissom was not sure if he could handle that.


	18. chapter 18

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

Sara turned on her flashlight and pointed it toward the fan on the ceiling, blood dripping from it. Lowering the light to the body on the floor, she saw another proof of what happens when one chooses a fan to be used as a murder weapon.

"Well, that's ugly," Nick said behind her.

"Murder always is," Sara replied and took out her camera.

"How was your weekend?" he asked.

"Hm?" She barely heard him.

"You went somewhere or stayed in good old Vegas?"

"Oh, uh, no I was at a friend's ranch."

"Sweet. Had a good time?"

Sara lowered her camera and looked over at him. "Had to cut it short for a day 'cause of work but besides that it was alright." It would have turned out to be a great weekend had it not been for that embarrassing incident in Grissom's room. There had never been a better moment where she was more than grateful that the lights were not working.

Nick accepted that answer with a nod and a smile before opening his field kit. "Grissom also had the weekend off, I heard."

Sara put on a surprised look on her face.

"Yeah, him taking a vacation, hard to believe." Nick shook his head and took out a pair of gloves.

Sara forced a smile. "Yeah….," she said and focused her camera again.

* * *

He came to the living room to find it empty. Grissom turned around when he heard some footsteps.

"Hey, Gil," Roberta greeted him with a smile and a small bouquet of flowers in her hands.

"Good morning," Grissom smiled back at her. "Where is she?"

"She's in the garden," Roberta told him.

"Thanks," Grissom replied.

He found her sitting behind a – what he assumed to be – painted canvas, alone in the garden, surrounded by flowers of different colors. Vera loved flowers. The small rosy hairpin just above her left ear and the dress with a realistic imprint of a rainbow… if a rainbow could be captured in that way were a true reflection of her character: a truly bright, optimistic character. She didn't notice him at first, her eyes focused on the painting. Grissom felt happy seeing her like this. Probably because she seemed happy, trouble-free even.

When she finally noticed her son, Vera grinned and began standing up, her weight still supported by her cane. By the time Grissom approached to give her assistance; she had already managed on her own. She might have rushed it, wanting to show him that she was indeed fine on her own despite her age.

"You're early today," she told him.

"I had time," he replied.

Vera smiled. "I didn't expect you for another hour or so."

"Why is that?"

"Well, for one thing, you didn't give me time to gift-wrap your present."

"My present?"

"Yeah, but… oh hell, here you go." Vera stepped aside and showed it to Grissom.

The moment his eyes landed on the picture, words were taken away from him. The gaze, the faces… everything felt so real on this canvas. Vera always had that artistic touch of bringing an eerie realism to her paintings, but this time it drew out something more from this theme. It felt like a photograph for him… it had been a photograph, or at least a good imitation of it.

He and Sara were standing there with mild smiles on their faces. A stranger could easily notice the lack of ease here. She had focused on the eyes though. Grissom found himself staring at the painting a little too long.

"Do you like it?" Vera asked him.

"It's amazing," he said. "This is why you took that photo?"

She nodded. "It was an excellent inspiration. And…" she shrugged. "I might as well keep painting while my eyesight is still good and my hand still steady." She walked over to the purple flowers that were close to where her brushes sat. Vera picked a flower. They had already been cut. "Her face was easy to draw out. She has interesting lines. Maybe you could ask her to come when she has some free time. I would like to do a portrait of her."

Grissom's left lip curled up. "I'll have that in mind."

"She's such a unique creature."

"Yes, she is…"

"Sara told me Jack and Cynthia invited her…."

"So, is that what you two talked about after breakfast?"

"Well, I asked her what else she did despite work… guess who she reminded me of with her answers…."

"I should try not to."

Very chuckled. "So, they invited her…"

"They did."

"Not you."

"No."

"They must like her."

"They do." Grissom sighed. He could tell where his mother was going with this. "She is a friend."

"Is she a good a friend?"

He pressed his lips and reluctantly nodded.

"Good, I'm glad." Vera suddenly closed her eyes as an aching feeling reached her.

"Mom?"

"Oh, I'm fine, just my leg…" she replied and opened her eyes.

"You shouldn't be standing."

"You don't say. I'm sicker from laying down all the time than actually doing myself some good with walking."

"That was a long talk you two had."

"Yes, it was." She shook her head. "It was sad seeing a nice girl like that being single."

"Um, yeah."

"Oh, dear…" she sighed. "It brought back so many of my thoughts about you…"

"Well that can't be good," he explained with a joking face but seeing the opposite expression on his mother's, Grissom quickly changed it.

"I sometimes assumed you never stayed in a relationship because you were afraid it might end up like it did with your father and I."

Grissom's face was cold to this. He cared little of his other parent. He did not need more reminders. "That has never been the reason."

"Maybe. You were too closed, Gil. You still are. You always liked your hobbies and later your work more than anything. I respect that, I always have, even if it made me worry about you." She touched his cheek. "I don't want you to end up like me, Gil." She shook her head.

"You were more happy on your own than when you were with dad," he said.

"That's not entirely true. We were very happy one time. We grew out of it unfortunately, but we were happy. Art kept me busy, _you_ kept me busy… but that's over now. I even think sometimes that you follow my footsteps. I've never discouraged you from it but… sadly, I think I should start to."

"I am happy, mom."

"Are you? You've got a good position at work as a supervisor, but we both know you're not crazy about it. You go home to an empty apartment…" She paused. "I still remember when you came up to me that morning just before your eleventh birthday. You told me you wanted to observe the mantis population in Malaysia." Vera smiled. "You were so excited about that. You were always excited about insects."

"That hasn't changed."

"No, no it hasn't. At least your enthusiasm about them hasn't." She touched his cheek again. "I don't know if Sara is someone you could care enough to love, Gil. I hope she is. I like her. She seems to have a kind soul… like yourself. Half of your life has already been faithful to work… let the other half be faithful to a person that can love you." She waited for his reaction, her eyes both sad and hopeful.

Grissom nodded. He understood her concern. He only wished he was brave enough to act on what he felt.

"I wish I could've heard her voice. What is it like?" she asked him.

Grissom wondered for a second. His right lip curled up. "It's like honey," he told her.

"Oh, that's beautiful. A voice like that to whisper a sweet song at night to you, and wake you in the morning… imagine how beautiful it could be."

Grissom smiled nervously to this.

"I pictured you going to some distant countries, studying an unknown specie of some insect, away from politics, from the chaos of the rest of the world… and maybe, with someone by your side. And in every picture, Gil… In every picture like that that I have?... you are happy. I believe that has always been your real dream…" She sighed. "I _still_ dream of living for the day when I see you truly happy… and … if I could be even luckier, to see a baby in your arms. Someone to be here when you are gone." She squeezed his hand. Her eyes then lowered to the floor. "Sometimes though, I think that's all it is… only a dream…."

He glanced at the painting. If he could hear that disappointment in her voice, his heart would break.

"You could give it as a present to Sara if you want," Vera said. She tapped his hand. "Don't let her go, Gil."

He said nothing to that.

* * *

If she opened her mouth one more time to give a yawn, she would have surely swallowed the entire lab. And if she hadn't given an accidental glance to her left, she would have kept walking, out of the lab and towards her home.

She saw him sitting there on that table, documents scattered before him; face focused, eyebrows furrowed, eyeglasses beginning to slip to the edge of his nose. Sara stopped in front of the entrance, watching him. There was no one else in the hallway…. Almost as if ghosts had taken over the place instead of the living. She imagined a bulldozer driving past and Grissom ignoring it as if it had never happened.

She walked inside. "Hey," she said softly.

He looked up. "Hey. Going home?" His index finger pushed his glasses back.

"Was about to… Uh, I thought you were gonna do that also."

"Yes, but Jack sent me some papers to look over for him so I'm going to be here a little longer," he said and looked down at the documents.

"Research?" she asked.

"Mm….."

"Need some help?" she suddenly offered.

He looked up at her again. "It's complicated," Grissom replied with a low smile.

She snorted and crossed her arms. "Thanks for the confidence, Grissom?"

"I'm sorry. But honestly, this will be boring for you."

"I can't say much is waiting for me back at my apartment so, perhaps I could make this night easier for you."

His eyebrows furrowed again. "Aren't you tired?"

"You're asking a fellow workaholic that question?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

He smirked. "Please…" he offered her the chair opposite him.

She smiled in response and sat down. "What do we have?" Sara took the few papers Grissom handed to her. She was surprised. "I thought they were extinct," she asked of the species of rare beetle.

"Apparently not. Jack found several of them in India."

"Well, that's odd. Weren't they only present in Europe?"

"So far the theory of them being transferred to the Asian continent during the colonial era is being discussed."

"Hmm…."

_Six hours later…._

Sara moved her neck, hearing a few bones cracking. She felt tired but not as much as to give up and call it a night. Putting the pen down, she stood up. "Want some tea?" she asked.

"I'm good, thanks," Grissom declined.

She circled the table to stand behind him. She took some hot water and a tea bag. Taking a sip, she turned around and leaned back. She would have walked back to her seat had she not seen the tired movements his neck and shoulders made. She tilted her head. He must be tired. "How are you doing?" Sara asked him.

"I'm fine."

"You need a neck massage," she said and smiled. "Maybe from a professional."

"Waste of money."

"Okay," she replied softly and took another sip. Another movement of his made her worry this time. Sara set the cup down and reached forward.

Grissom almost jumped to the unexpected touch on his shoulders, so close to his neck. Her fingers moved down, taking his skin and then up… diverse movements – some soft and gentle, and others harder. He would have politely told her to stop and return to work if possible…. In the past he would have told her that. But moments have been changing so much between them that if anything…. He welcomed her action now.

Sara glanced toward the hallway. There was no one there. It was safe to do this. "Then… how about from an amateur?" she said tenderly.

Grissom didn't give an answer. Every movement – soft or hard – was untying the tight knots forming endlessly in his back and shoulder. She touched his neck and moved down again and with it closed Grissom's eyes. Sara's movements were slow… incredibly, thoughtfully slow. One hand moved left; another hand went up. The knots were coming undone…. The tension was slowly releasing itself by the pressure of her fingers on his skin, with a thin cotton barrier of his shirt.

Anyone else would have dared to touch him and he would have freaked. Sara touched him and he was as tame as a domestic cat. The departure of the tension took away the fences around his neck with it, letting the head hang; he sighed quietly enough so she would not hear him.

"Oh." Warrick suddenly stopped at the doorway, finding Grissom and Sara here and like this.

Sara immediately withdrew her hands and Grissom opened his eyes.

"Hey, Warrick. Still on duty?" she asked him.

"Uh, yeah… I'm pulling a double, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry," she chuckled and grabbed her tea.

"Anyway… I just came in to get myself some coffee," he said and walked over to the coffee machine.

"Sure," she smiled and sat back in her chair, exchanging a quick glance with Grissom who remained unusually quiet.

"I thought you two had left for the day," Warrick tried to make some conversation, hiding the fact that this had been as uncomfortable for him as it was for the other two people in the room.

"Something came up," Grissom responded.

He took his cup and walked back to the entrance. "Have fun," Warrick said and walked away.

Sara looked at Grissom. He looked back. Both quickly returned to their work. Not much was left….

"That was pretty good for an amateur," Grissom then said from his papers.

She looked up at him and smiled to this. He returned that was a soft and short smile of his own.

Work called again….

"Why do I keep witnessing these things?" Warrick told himself and huffed. Always at the wrong place in the wrong time.


	19. chapter 19

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

She returned home with a yellow envelope in her hands. Once she got settled in, Sara opened the top of the envelope and instinctively flipped it upside-down, waiting for something to fall from it. It had been a tiny package from Mark after all. And he usually sent the same gifts such as…

A thud was heard.

A small necklace. She smiled and picked up the accessory. A long brownish leather lace with a white circular stone hanging from its middle was on her palm.

Sara brought it closer to her, noticing the small inscription on it. _I live because I love_, it said. She recognized his letters. Sara flipped the stone and noticed a blended image of a Virgo and Leo. She smirked. She found the artwork flawless and beautiful as always, but a little unusual as he had never sent her a necklace with an engraved image or anything. For some reason she found the inclusion of Grissom's sign as disturbing.

She was grateful to Mark for providing her with so many pieces of necklaces over the years, most of them from his visits abroad, which she wore to work. Sara liked them not only because they had been a gift from her brother but because they were also unique. They suited her personality.

She peeked inside the envelope and found a folded piece of yellow paper. Sara pulled it out and unfolded it to reveal his usual messy handwriting.

_I should have given you this necklace when we met but I did not expect to meet your Grissom and I realized it wasn't complete. I got inspired to add the signs and words, otherwise it was just an empty piece of stone. _

_He needs to live more but he's a good man. I hope he can make you happy, Sara…._

_Mark_

Sara read the note again. She then looked back at the necklace and especially at the signs. They seemed prettier now. The small maiden leaning against the stomach of the sitting lion as if preparing herself to fall asleep. Such comfort….

Yeah… they both needed to live more….

* * *

When Catherine came in Grissom's office, she saw him concentrated among piles of books and documents. He appeared not to notice her, even when she got close enough to read a paper that was in his hands. "Retirement?" she read the word.

Grissom's head shot up. He quickly removed the piece of paper.

"Are you thinking about it?" she asked.

He didn't answer.

"Isn't it a little early for that? You're not so far away from –"

"Anything you need?" he interrupted her flatly.

She was forced to observe his reaction with suspicion. "Everything okay with you?"

"Yeah."

Catherine tapped her fingers on her hip. She finally sighed. "Okay, well, here's the file you wanted." She handed him the yellow folder.

"Thank you," Grissom replied and took the folder.

"Had a relaxing weekend by the way?" she then asked.

"I did," he lied.

"Where did you go off to anyway?"

"Jack and Cynthia's ranch."

"Again?"

"It has been a while."

"It must've been." She leaned forward on the desk. "Gil…" her voice soft. "What's going on?"

He looked up at her with a blank look in his eyes. "Should there _be_ something going on?"

"You tell me." Her face gave him a clear picture that he should have known what she meant without having to explain herself further.

His look didn't change, but he showed a weak smile. "Everything's fine. Don't worry."

Catherine tilted her head and distanced herself from the desk. "Okay." She would let him be.

* * *

"He was a burden to the family," Eric said.

"Enough to kill him." Nick leaned forward.

"I did him a favor. He was already a walking corpse with all that shit he was taking."

"But your own brother man."

"Our mother has a very weak heart. We tried to get him help but he didn't want any. If she ever found out about him, it would have killed her."

"What do you think this will do to her?" Nick asked.

Eric did not give an answer but looked away instead.

"Thought so," Nick said and nodded.

* * *

Sara came into the locker room as her shift had ended ten minutes earlier. She saw Warrick standing before his locker, getting ready to head home.

"Case finished?" she asked.

"Finally yes. You?"

"I'm in the clear as well." She smiled. "Wanna go grab some coffee?"

"No, thanks. Right now all I see is a big bed in front of me."

"Would that be an empty one or would it have someone in it?" she teased him.

Warrick smirked and looked at her. "As much I'd want to, my body isn't exactly in the mood for it."

"Bummer." She chuckled.

"Why? Are you offering?" He grinned at her.

"I'm going to have to disappoint you there." She gave him a wink and chuckled again.

Warrick laughed and shook his head. "Too bad. I might have made an exception for you." He closed the door of his locker and swung the jacket over his shoulder.

"I am flattered." She hit his arm gently and turned back to her locker.

Warrick shrugged with a smile and walked out of the room.

Sara put her warm jacket on and was about to exit the locker room when Grissom's sudden appearance caused a near collision between them.

"Sorry," he apologized with a raised hand.

She smiled as her own way of apologizing. She noticed the book in his hands.

"New?" Sara asked.

Grissom glanced at the book. "Yes, actually."

"What's it about?" She appeared loosely curious.

"I wouldn't know, I haven't read it yet," he responded and walked pass her. "You're off for tonight?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah."

"Good. What are you up to?"

"A date," she replied simply.

He stopped and stared at her for a moment. "With whom?"

"Ah, that's private, sorry." She smiled. "Night, Grissom."

She walked out way too fast for his words to come out on time. His face fell. He shrugged and even shuddered, as selfish and possibly mean as it may have sounded…. Grissom hoped she had other than the answer he received.

* * *

She leaned back in her seat, trying to be comfortable. She didn't lie. Sara had decided to go off to a date.

By herself.

The view was truly beautiful from here. Just like last time… when both had been here.

Sara's gaze loosely held onto the glittering image of the city far away. It was quieter then, she remembered. She couldn't see the glitter though; she could barely see any sign of civilization beyond those quarters where she stayed; her eyes absorbing the thick shadows of the moving clouds as she lay in her bed. She cursed her insomnia for kicking in at such a wrong night. Not that the view had been bad. No, on the contrary it had been a beautiful sight.

She could tell the air had been cleaner here. The stars, even those she thought could never be visible, sparkled strongly, brightly enough, giving the illusion that they could be touched if she only reached out her hand. But then something kicked in inside her down low. Sara cursed the timing once again and angrily pushed the sheets aside.

Threading on the soft carpet in the hallway, she somehow reached the bathroom without much difficulty.

Feeling her way through the darkness, back to her room, Sara wished she had not underestimated her bladder's timing and had asked for a flashlight earlier. Her fingers touching the walls like a blind person, she felt nothing but the cold, rugged wall. After a while they came across a wooden surface. She smiled. Finally.

Remembering that it had not been closed, Sara merely pushed the door gently forward, worrying that if done more forcefully it might make a disturbing noise. She remembered the location of the bed, and it was confirmed when her legs felt the soft fabric of the sheets. Gently she sat down and turned to the side. Sara couldn't see the stars anymore. She could barely see anything. The clouds had already taken over.

A male moan was heard. Her eyes widened and moved her arm which resulted in a sudden movement from another body on the bed. "Oh, shit!" She quickly jumped out of the bed. "Grissom?" she sounded confused.

"Y-eah…. Sara??"

Wrong room. "I'm so sorry… I thought…. I… crap. Uh, I thought this was my room." Embarrassment crept up in her voice. Perhaps in her cheeks as well but it was difficult to tell.

"You lay down here?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry. I had to get to the toilet and the lights are out and…" She tried to explain herself when he interrupted her with a sigh.

"It's fine, Sara, don't worry about it." She heard him say.

There was silence as she had just stood in her place, not moving a muscle. "I'm sorry I woke you," she told him softly after a moment.

"It's fine."

She took a step back and straitened her pajamas. "Good night, Grissom."

"Night, Sara."

And she left.

Sara closed her eyes, hearing the wind pass by. That had been embarrassing. She wondered about the moan. She had never heard that profound sound from him before. Maybe a nightmare had taken over him and she had done him a favor by accident. But his moan was not a scared or painful one. Sara had heard a moan of the same nature before.

She pressed her lips. Could he have been….?

Sara shook her head, her eyes still closed. She hoped that was a mistaken conclusion, but if it had been right, then… A long, very, incredibly long sigh escaped her. Now she felt even more relieved that that night hadn't been discussed between them.

She put her hands on the steering wheel. She had asked him of the horse's name the other day though; a safer conversation.

"Butterfly," he told her. The language he mentioned was unfamiliar to her.

Sara confessed of never having the chance to hear that language. She saw him smile softly as if he had expected her response. "Not many have," had been his response.

Her lips opened. She felt like another sigh had wished to escape when some quiet giggles and chuckles interrupted her. Her eyes opened and she turned to her left.

She saw another car parked next to her, inside a young couple observing her with some sort of devilish amusement. Sara narrowed her eyes, wondering what they could have found amusing about her. Their gazes and movements gave her a hint. She glanced down at her lap and back at them. "Ah, no, I… there's noo-" But she could not finish her sentence when she could no longer see the young woman inside. By the posture of the young man though, his head and closed eyes, gave her a very clear idea of where the woman could have disappeared to. Apparently she had managed to give them an idea.

"Oh, geez!" Sara shook her head and reached for her keys. Instead of taking them immediately, her fingers appeared clumsy enough to push them to the pedals. She reached down, her gaze somewhere to her right.

Finally she had them firmly in her hand. She glanced towards the neighboring car to see the two front seats empty. A question mark would have aroused if she had not noticed the almost hidden movements in the back seat. The pair had relocated rather quickly. "That was fast," she said quietly. Sara placed her seatbelt on her when she heard some muffed noises coming from the other car. The quick lowering and raising sounds of the vehicle that accompanied those noises left little of the imagination to Sara of the way that the couple had chosen to entertain themselves; not that she had wished to leave nothing to the imagination. She turned on the engine and steered the car away from here. Some are simply bold and adventurous. She was not willing to sit and listen to it.


	20. chapter 20

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

* * *

The kneeled down in front of it. He should have found a suitable place on his wall or given it to Sara by now, but he had done neither. Grissom never asked for the original photograph. To him, the realism of this painting was the photograph. His mother had taken her time and given the characters and background real care; he could tell by the brushstrokes. There was one difference from the original though. Their smiles seemed natural instead of forced here. How did she imagine it so well? But then, he remembered, she always had a good memory.

His eyes suddenly narrowed on a detail of the image. A ring; a thin golden line on their left fingers. Grissom closed his eyes. He shook his head with a deep sigh. "Mother…" he whispered with slight annoyance. When his eyelids were lifted again, he looked up at the faces one more time; the way the eyes of the couple were staring back at him was disturbing.

Too real.

Grissom stood up again and grabbed his jacket. He needed some fresh air.

* * *

She changed the station for the fifteenth time. Sara found it difficult to believe that this had to be a night when every radio station had chosen to play crappy music. She tried it one more time, with minor hopes of a decent melody when she was brutally disappointed yet again. In the end she simply gave up and turned her radio off.

Driving in silence, Sara watched the endlessly lonely road ahead of her. Two cars had passed her earlier but that had been the busiest moment in the entire hour she had spent on the road. She should simply head back to her apartment. She certainly didn't fancy going anywhere alone for tonight. Her fingers touched her forehead, rubbing it slightly. She groaned, hoping that a headache would not be arrogant enough to appear now. Sara could feel the tiny currents of pain pulsating inside. She breathed out heavily and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

Then something caught her attention ahead. Lowering the speed of her car, she noticed a familiar vehicle parked at the right side of the road. She narrowed her eyes to have a better look at the licensee plate. "Hmm…" She slowly changed direction, and then parked the car next to the newly spotted one.

Stepping outside, she tried to look inside but found no one there. She looked at her watch. His shift must have ended by now…. Her gaze turned to her right where she imagined where he could have gone. She turned around and took out a small object from her bag on the back seat.

Locking the door of her car, Sara turned on her flashlight and pointed it down at the dusty ground. Her lip stretched to a smile. Footprints. As if examining a crime scene, she started walking slowly ahead, following the trail made by another human being.

After five minutes of walking, she noticed a faint source of light up ahead. Another flashlight resting on a familiar tree trunk; next to it was a person sitting down, their back turned to Sara.

"Wow, didn't expect to find you here at this hour," she said out loud and smiled again.

Quickly turning around, obviously taken by surprise by her arrival, Grissom eyed the visitor and reluctantly smiled back. "Sara," he said. "I'm thinking the same thing about you right about now," he added as she circled the tree to stand next to where his flashlight had been placed.

She couldn't help it. After the depressing hour of her drive, this new sight was like a ray of sunshine to her. Sara grinned. "Do you mind some company?" she asked.

"Please," he said and removed his flashlight, before gesturing for her to sit down.

She saw a longer and softer smile on his face now. He appeared genuinely pleased to see her. "Coincidently, I saw your car," Sara told him.

"In the dark. I'm impressed." He faked his amazement so badly that it made Sara chuckle.

"How come you're out here so late?" She then asked.

Grissom looked ahead. "They make good company," he said and nodded toward the mound.

Sara joined him in his watch. "Mm… yeah, they do."

Grissom perched his lips. "So…" he started. "How did your date go?"

"Oh, uh, it could've been better."

Somehow, he was glad to hear that. "Sorry, to hear that," he said calmly.

Sara allowed the silence to fill the atmosphere for a while before she spoke. "You're still curious about who I was with, aren't you…" she said without looking at him.

Grissom smirked. She had been right, but he was not going to admit it to her. "Your mystery man is your business."

"It was a woman actually," she replied.

This turned his head. "Excuse me?"

She looked back at him, finding his astonished expression priceless. "Well, you come to that point in your life when you…" She paused and grinned. He looked like she had turned into a ghost. "I haven't switched preferences, Griss," she chuckled. "I went out… by myself…"

"Oh…" His expression slowly showed a sign of relief.

"I had you for a while there though, didn't I?" she teased him.

Grissom shrugged. "It is the awful habit of jumping to conclusions that even I share at times," he replied. "Where? If I may ask?"

"The place you lured me to after Charlie's party."

He appeared satisfied by her choice. "How come?"

"Far from the city, quiet… but then a couple decided to get busy and…. That kind of ruined it for me."

Grissom smirked. "Yeah, that tends to be a favorite breeding place."

She glared at him. "You failed to mention that before."

"I didn't think you'd go back there," he excused himself.

She huffed. "Thoughtful."

He placed the flashlight on the other side next to him. "My mother says hello by the way."

"Thank you." She smiled gently. "How is she?" she asked, her voice being soft.

"As optimistic as always."

"Ah, good to know. Something I wish to often be."

Grissom glanced at her. "She also made this interesting painting."

"Of?"

"Well, I thought you'd see and judge for yourself."

"Abstract?"

"Sort of. She seems quite fond of you," he admitted.

Sara looked down. "She's a sweet lady."

Grissom smiled to this.

"So, is that where you got your knowledge about art from?" she asked.

"She was an influence."

"Too bad you didn't take up painting like her." She looked at him.

"I tried it. The results were dreadful."

Sara chuckled. "I wouldn't mind a demonstration some day."

"Even if the final result is scarring you for life?"

"I'm quite strong." She nodded.

He studied her face curiously, secretly unrevealing layers with his eyes. "You truly are…" he whispered.

She watched the way his eyes were caressing her face. It had been a look she had experienced not long ago. Sara swallowed. The blueness deepened, the pupils darkened; each change cutting the string of comfort she was feeling only a second ago.

The distance between them wasn't big; he could see her face and especially her dark eyes so clearly, so intensely. The artificial light of her flashlight revealed her skin brightly enough for him, leaving nothing for him to imagine about her. He did not want to imagine anything. Grissom liked her this way… exposed with every crack and bruise. Her warm brown eyes, the way they stared back at him, were a sufficient bait to lure him a few inches away from that safe shell. In the beginning he shivered unnoticeably. It was new… cold at first, but her stare wrapped him in a soft, warm blanket… It felt better now.

The last string snapped. She felt uncomfortable now. Sara stood up slowly and then leaped over the tree trunk. "It was a long night…" She made an excuse and took a couple of steps away her spot.

But he took her hand, stopping her. She looked over at him. "Stay," she heard him say, his voice fragile enough to break. His eyes weren't on her… but on her hand. He had her wrist. Gently he pulled her closer to him. Still sitting down, Grissom placed his fingers on her palm and began caressing it slowly… very slowly; his skin touching hers so delicately; those same fingers that could caress the wings of a butterfly and leave no trace, no damage. A silent sigh escaped her as the touch sent rushes through her body. They were delicate, exploring… loving touches.

Half of his life had already been empty. He did not wish for the other half to suffer the same lonely fate.

He looked up at her, wondering, worrying even, if his action had been disturbing for her. She showed no such signs to him. His caress stopped. His hands covered hers. It was a soft skin; despite the traumas, the grueling work, those hands of hers managed to remain soft, delicate… beautiful. Like her. Grissom stood up, not letting go of her hand. He watched her long.

She felt it to be an eternity.

He glanced at her lips. His heart fluttered.

She saw his eyes move. Her heart jumped.

They were alone here. There were no distractions, no work, no one but them. Anything could happen or noting at all.

"I can't make any promises, Sara…" he admitted still with that fragile voice.

"I don't think either of us is capable of doing that," she admitted as assurance to both of them.

"You might see things you won't like…"

"Then you're in for the same surprise…."

There were tiny traces of uncertainty in their gazes. Maybe both felt the need to hold back, allowing the other person to make a move forward or backward.

Could he truly be ready? Could _she_ be ready?

Grissom pressed his lips and sighed. He removed his hand.

Sara looked down at it, perhaps she was right. Perhaps he was not as ready as he had thought.

But then she found him standing much closer to her than before. Her lower lip would have surely begun to shiver but she managed to hold it still. His hand, the one that he had removed from hers, had now touched her face. It was a slow, steady touch, beginning with the experimental feel of the fingers, to be certain she would not pull away. She stood there, waiting, anticipating the unknown. The fingers slid forward and her cheek was embraced in his palm.

Her eyes were never removed from his dark blue-colored. Sara wished to read something in them, anything. But damn him, he was an excellent trickster. The only thing she could make out was something warm from them, something unseen before. His thumb caressed her skin twice, making her swallow something in her throat that it wasn't actually there.

Another hand touched her other, left cheek. Her face was in his hands now. She would trust him enough not to break this off and run away.

She would trust him….

His lips opened, she could see that much despite her gaze on his. And then… she could see those eyes no more as darkness fell over them and her lips melted into his.

Grissom took her face and her breath. He took all of her tonight….

All of her….

* * *

The morning that replaced the night was mellow; the sun seemed orange, the clouds purple…

His eyes traveled across the empty space of his living room. Nothing appeared different on the inside. Grissom did not expect it to seem different. Outside was a different story.

But he heard a soft sigh; his cheek felt the brushing of her soft hair; his skin felt the warmth of her breath. He looked at her peaceful face on his shoulder. Sara's peaceful face…. Her right arm over his belly, her legs on the remaining space of the couch.

Grissom blinked several times. He wondered why this failed to feel as strange and out of place as he thought it might have.

Her soft moan disconnected that thought. The answer was simple: Sara belonged here.

_"… let the other half be faithful to a person that can love you."_

She returned to his home, she saw the painting, watching it wordlessly for a long time, stunned by it. And she thought of it as interesting and real. Somehow, she did not notice the rings.

And in the end, after everything, she stayed…. For once, for the first time Grissom felt satisfied to spend the night with a companion in his home. He smiled and kissed the top of her head.

His cheek pressed against the softness of her hair. He could be faithful; they both deserved that.

**THE END**

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Author's note: Thank you to everyone that enjoyed the story enough to leave a review:) I am happy to know that certain chapters made someone's day.

'Till next time!


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